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Doyali Islam
for my mother
my mother used to make little rice balls
for me. she steamed and clattered about the
cramped mustard kitchen, filling a pot with
water, swelling and salting and songing
the grains, plating them like planets longing
for some lost centre, chirping, my mother,
o, she made me small small bhater mondo.
/> フ
| ^ ^ l
/` ミ_ 3_ノ
/ |
/ ヽ ノ
│ | | |
/ ̄| | | |
| ( ̄ヽ__ヽ_)__)
\二つ
hope you haven't choked on that bean you've always been worried about