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