New Mirage Journal

I now know my grandmother’s name

Like a student with a 2.0 GPA,
I sat in the back of the class,
staring at the walls when the instructor ran
fingers through her mane of ancestry and said,
“Tell me your grandmother’s name on your maternal side.”
 
I shudder like the breeze monsoon brings and draw
an imaginary family tree - partial the roots
and the leaves - oh the expectations of patriarchy.
 
I recollect songs my Dad’s mother’s maid hummed
to her bangles in the mango orchard,
the poisoned apples, my maternal side, weeded out of the garden.
 
Morsels of memory, my brain remains blank
as Wonder Bread. What’s in a name,
Shakespeare’s lines.  A prick,
a nudge help me snort solace. 
Storms drown my eyes. I fill
my heart with faded flavors of the empire
and decide to call her Sweet Melody.

~Sweta Vikram