Karapincha: Endowments from My Mother

Suzi Mezei

I keep the curry trees in neat black pots        behind glass
      	   in the smallest room
that gets the most sun            	         near a window
where they can watch the untamed garden    	  riot
unhindered, its earthen scalp a knot of unkempt botanical hair,
clogged with the heavy syrup of July’s winter rain
on the other side of the double glaze; inside
I keep the house warm.
We were not born to embrace chills,
the trees and I, our tap roots    	meander
through dense Kulin loam, infiltrate the sea and end
       	   in the subcontinent, intertwined with an island fringe
frequented by turtles and tsunamis. In recycled heat, my trees
arch their backs, unspool verdant canopies, adorn their heads in pinnacles
of tiny white bloom,        the aroma of their eastern disposition
fills the place like goddess-breath and    	drops
       	   in cavernous pots that wait to be filled
with the taste of shared history.

Note: Karapincha means curry tree

Suzi Mezei is a Sri Lankan born Australian writer. She is widely published and has won some writing awards. She is still working on a novella but is often distracted. She misses going to film festivals with her MIFF Buddy but is also grateful for many things.



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