Poems

Poem

Dada taught me cards.
Sitting in his suit of pants and vest.
A fistful of joker-red hair strewn across his brow.
His big belly like a cannon ball.

Poem

Dada has stories from Calcutta
wrapped up in his big belly.
When he belched they would unravel.

Poem

The walls of the room are white and clean -
all sign's of yesterdays sorrows scrubbed
away with bleach.

Red Cherry Red
Poem

I was born with a map of Australia on my face;
it was beautiful, my mother told me – 
there was nobody like me in the whole wide world
who could trace the edges of down under

Poem

Toothless, she kisses
with fleshy lips
rounded, like mouth
of a bottle, all wet

She bruises your face
almost, with two
loving tree-root hands.