I’m already miffed. Monday, not so much blue as irritable
Moving back home at thirty: a special kind of jiggle
Mother and I butt heads
On who wins, no bets
Grudgingly gathering the laundry, off I shuffle
It’s Tuesday. We are translating Shakespeare
Giggling at people finding summer dear
No accounting for taste
English and their ways
For in bud or in bloom, May is no darling here
We put pork bafat on the Wednesday menu
Test by fire: the shelling of the garlic retinue
Onion may make you cry
But it is not, mind you, sly
Like the cute pods of white gold slowly slaying in queue
Thursday we are frustrated separately
Really, linear-loop thinking I inherit directly
She is screaming over phone calls
I’m fuming at a website stalled
Only by evening we settle down, somewhat belatedly
Weekend ahead, Friday finds me home alone
Mysore calling mother and the congregation
Church diversifying
Not just mystifying
Pleasure and faith, a perfect consummation
I decide to step out for dinner on Saturday
Mom has messaged: water plants, don’t forget, okay?
Not just a green finger
An anxious overthinker
Seven seas or the next city, chores on mind on replay
The day of the Lord dawns crisp and breezy
Mom will be back by evening, mostly
Day agenda: a bit of writing
Then some light cooking
Dal and bhurji for dinner, nothing fancy
Carol Blaizy D’Souza is a poet, translator and researcher from Bangalore. A collation of her work can be found at linktr.ee/cblaizd.