My Grandmother's Kaleidoscope
by

The stones and the planks of her heart
resonate with the pick-axes and the
hammers. My grandma’s mansion
loses its head, arms and trunk.

His hidden life in the Malaysian
woods during an old war, usual
silence of the empty nights near
her granary, which was always
filled to the brim, night wind
rattling the lone window of her
top scary storey, her maid’s
calumnies tickling the eardrums,
haunting forebodings, ecstasy of
the reunion… I see all in her
yellow kaleidoscope.

Broken stones and planks are
heaped up before her wrinkled
emotions. She watches all in
silence from the kind veranda
of her son-in-law. The present
is only a ghost of the past.

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