The Elbow Cream

Today, I write about you
Words come from my gall bladder
All drenched in bile,
And wine made from cider

I remember those summer afternoons
When coal tar would stick on shoes
And you would dress up in cotton Pyjamas
Planning to set up a ruse

You, lost in your own world
And partially in mine
You’d seek refuge in the recycled paper
And lie down beside me

On the top floor of that house
I would go to sleep
and you would look at me
And then lie down beside me
(as I felt the mole near your navel)

Remember? You were after me those days
Trying to change the destiny of my elbows
Armed with, do you remember, the elbow-cream?

You’d be soon leaving for Kolkata
I knew you had surrendered
Their happiness mattered to you.
But what about my elbows, Nina?