Wrestle in the mire with the pig-nosed child until the sun bakes her pink flesh phlogopite: salmon-scaled skin with amber-knob eyes. She is half/mother, half/father, & it’s the daddy-man in her that thumped you like a babe, the arms of an old-but-not-too-old dude, liver-spotted & hairy-potted &               crushing your windpipe: tin-can in a vice. Cacophony of squeals & snarls & snorts & the gnashing of gums. Say uncle!           Uncle. Folds of adipose decorate her limbs like bangles on a Desi bride & her pajama-top billows over her head like the Babushka. But she strokes nicely

the bunny’s soft fur 

in whispers: she holds your hand

like string on a kite.