Sweet Tamarind

The grandfather sowed. 
A demon on a dark rainy night, 
charming loafer in the spring, 
hippy cut leaves will go bald 
in the summer, the kingfisher will scald 
its skin 
when it seeks a resting place. 
Ours in its shade 

at the seventh plinth of morose- 
ness. On troubling days, 

its branches will sway, 
armoured fruits will ripen 
and fall to the ground. Sweet tamarind, 
sweet tamarind, your sour pulp scales 
my teeth, your acid tang buzzes 
my brain. A poison stain 
left on the brass plate of my boyhood: 
in fever, it was spent. 

(The poem was first published in the inaugural issue of Shiuli: https://shiuli.art/issue1/poems#ArunParia)