Fall 2005 • Vol. XXVII No. 4 Poetry |

Cold Weather Trees

Amma calls through the monsoon wind Come, Meena, pick up your sari hem The snails mustn't catch in it, If you go too slow into the next world You'll stumble over a brawl of fireflies, It is darker there than you imagine Even the linden grove is filled with ghosts. What does she know of cold weather trees? She was raised by a pond where fireflies crawl In a garden of jasmine and rain-bitten leaves. Sometimes I feel everything's changed In her house with a room full of mirrors So I pick my way in between the rocks To earth's sore place, navel of dirt Under the cover of cold weather trees.

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Meena Alexander
Meena Alexander has two new books forthcoming in 2018. Her volume of poems Atmospheric Embroidery (TriQuarterly Books/Northwestern U Press) and the anthology she edited Name Me a Word: Indian Writers Reflect in Writing (Yale U Press). She is Distinguished Professor of English at Hunter College and the Graduate Center CUNY. www.meenaalexander.com

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Torn Grass

By Meena Alexander

Amma calls through the monsoon wind Come, Meena, pick up your sari hem The snails mustn't catch in it, If you go too slow into the next world You'll stumble […]

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