You search the world,
Looking for love.
rummaging through countries
as if they're ikea drawers
and almaris that hold the
warmth  of your
mothers banarasi sarees;
this is a race against time
And you wouldn't know
what to do
if the clock defeats love
because they told you
all else fades
But love doesn't.

So you draw parallels
between potential significant others
and sit com characters
because eventually
people are people
and you will eventually find
someone who is wiling
to show up.(?)
The odds , the chances
and the probabilities are on your side -
you can get a little lazy,
a little less precise and stop squinting,
you’ll see whole people
are rough and rugged and soft and squishy
and the bits that feel incomplete
for now, you’ll be gracious and complete them
Because you promised to be less stringy
and this is a good thing
(&you decided you’re worthy of good things)

You look for love all over,
Only to find it where you
first stumbled into it,
engulfed by home or the feeling of it
you were willing to break your tongue
to learn it's language.

The lady on the news has a job.

The lady on the news says people die and my father switches the channel.
The government brought back shows  from his childhood ,he says.
Shows about gods that built bridges and fought for their wives, fought because of their wives.
It’s a story he knows even though he grew up in a hut without a TV or an attached bathroom.
It’s a story I know because my grandmother read it to me every night, she didn’t have books or pages woven together -
I am bound to her because of her memory.
My grandmother has learned it from her grandmother and her grandmother died of a disease maybe pneumonia ,could’ve been cholera, who knows? Diseases in the villages of Bihar don’t have names.
They just happen to people and people pass away.
Her fingers quietly press a warning into mine.
Don’t let them name daughters after the wives and mistresses and lovers of gods.
My grandmother thinks injustice taints names that have been wronged.
Her faith tells her that names and bad luck can be reincarnated. Her faith tells her to pray the curses off.
Her prayer will mislead the stench of the curses,
Like a lost boy in the Kumbh Mela-
alone in a fair, tasting his tears.

The lady on the news says people die
And my brother looks at my grandmother with suspicion in his eyes.