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love is fruit

Poem by Anjali Hans

Grandma meets me at the bus stop
Always with a handful of mulberries
On syrupy Jammu summer afternoons
I love mulberries
I think love must be the wild sweetness
Of mulberry.

Years later, you knock at my door
Lychees spilling out of your bag
On a sticky Delhi summer dusk
You love lychees
I think love must be sweet wildness
Of watching you
peel and eat, peel and eat.

I visit Grandma after work
Hunching under the weight of watermelon
On a parched summer night
I slice it into big red wedges
We eat together
We don’t talk much
We smile with our shoulders.

I learn love is two bowls.
I learn love is a kind of plucking.
I learn love is fruit.