Three Untitled Poems

I
slick-silvered fish
its skin - oily, plump, inviting
it sings glorious from the pan
with the peevish potatoes
and sulky tomatoes
she hoped to be wrapped up 
in a sari that same shade of reddish gold
assembled with care
with the same tenderness
carefully swaddled
as the freshest salmon in the marketplace
strange aspirations 
of a girl whose heart was muddled by the river water

II
she steals away in softness
bare footstep on the hardwood floor
the stirrings of early morning
a quiet pulse in her veins
still moonlight reflecting in her eyes
captured
the way the world can be trapped in a drop of dew
how she trembles in the wake of it all

III
when she looked in the mirror
she could not see herself
only emptied eyes
and a mouth painted in regret
on the other side of the looking glass
was everything she dreamed she'd be
when she was five
and the color of her skin
was a fine earth
from which beautiful things could grow

Tishna Mohiuddin is an occasional contributor to this page.