Vidya Panicker – Poetry

The rain clouds

Today at this moment,
I feel it would rain

imagine the steam rising from the parched earth
after decades of drought, an army of tadpoles
cracking out from the eggs
that were awaiting cooler days

the tiny droplets washing away
years of dirt from the leaves of my mango tree,
muddied brown water flowing in a rivulet
downhill to reach the sea

children of the neighborhood ripping away
pages from their notebooks, making paper boats
that do not heed their creators’ yelps,
get soaked in the water and drown

a man entering his home,
holding a packet of fried tapioca close to him,
his white dhoti decorated by splatters
of muddy water from his cheap sandals

the smell of frying lentils and peppers,
a cup of hot tea with floating cardamoms,
his woman waiting
with a pale green towel to dry his dripping hair

Eastern winds carried the dark clouds away—
there would be no rain,
today.

Based in the God’s own country of Kerala, Vidya Panicker’s poems have appeared in The feminist Review, So to speak, Shot glass journal, One sentence poetry, The New Verse News, Three line poetry, Aberration Labyrinth, Bangalore Review, 4and20 poetry and several others. Currently she manages two children, a doctoral thesis in management and occasional bursts  of creativity in her cramped college quarters.

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