Mother is toothless, sag-skinned,
Coconut round and brown with scar.
She knew pantuns, on Mandi Safar,
Sarong knotted modestly,
Fell into the sea, milk-fleshed young.
Ungainly now, unstrung,
She cannot stand heat, lies snoring
Under circling breezes.

In her grandfather's garden
Extraordinary fruit yearned:
Red-blossomed banana, yellow
Chempedak. She washed carefully
Eggshells to cap the spiky pandan.
Leached landscape bruised by sun,
He made it magical
With edible bushes.

Sand clearn from his garden rubbed
Into soles, penetrated blood
Like gold-yellow seeds. They cling
To our feet. She sits on the floor
By Scandinavian sofa
Blond as her gold-washed ring; rising
She shuffles to the refrigerator
In search of Malacca sweets.