And finally, the first place winner for poetry in the Holiday Blog Contest is Meghan Brinson of Lakeland, GA. Thanks, Meghan!
Row of Lamps
A table of paisley fire. My mother is a scalloped mango leaf. I am a lotus with a diamond wick. My little brother is just a small pot of coconut oil. My father says, this is the light of our being, the light of our victory, and I kick my brother under the table as he reaches for a sweet.
The Day of the Release of the Detainees: 52 princes escape from Fort Gwalior. by holding onto a guru’s cloak. They thank the seamstress for the 52 tassels, 52 golden bunches they can hold in the hand. On the road to the Golden Temple, the faithful line the streets with lit candles, and burn the holy city down.
Men have been killing each other, have been selling their souls for calf liver. And now they exchange foil coins, the women paint themselves with joy. The spirit of the season! they say, all over the world. But the season is only a week long.
Two weeks of years in the forest, and a raven-headed demon to kill. The wife is so happy to have a husband again.
Put your whisk in the mixing bowl and beat the milk and eggs. Beat it until a beautiful woman springs out and gives you a bag of gold nuggets.
We get the stickers at the market, red, blue, gold and silver mangos and myrtle leaves
and peacocks and lotuses.
At home, grandmother blends her eucalyptus and her red paste. She clucks at us as we peel off our plastic backings and stick our plastic menhdis on our fingers and palm backs, shakes her head and pulls a toothpick over mother’s palm, the palm she has washed with lemon and sugar for 40 years.
The cow and the calf. Why not? When the nipples bleed their seed pearls you’ll understand, nothing is merely holy.