Offerings to Savitr
mama says i look like a buddha
my earlobes fat as it droops down
my face weighed down by her words
a lump sleeps on the bridge
of my nose crooked where it lies
melanin stains my cheeks sprinkled
with turmeric and spilt darjeeling blush
reminiscent of the hills
in Pune where guavas wither
fatly at the foot of the hill
black roots sprout on my scalp long
enough to attract fruit flies that roam
under the sun in Rajasthan
in june when mama prays to the golden
god on her palms the flesh of the coconut swells
beneath the sunlight pouring from above
freckling her yellow skin
the fruit's unskinned shells hang
awkwardly from her hands uprooted
like mama when she tells me
i look like the man who left her