From an over-decorated kitchen –
leafy vegetables wilting in the fridge –
a fly caresses the only orange
in an all but empty glass fruit bowl.
A woman imagines the mountains
of the swirling sea, that spirals
down her stainless steel
sinkhole.
She loses her kitchen knives,
the covers of her pots and pans,
the partner to each pair
of slipper-socks,
the gunsmoke arguments,
her medical results,
and her keys.
The safety of her youth slips –
under the locked door and
out onto the streets.
—
Helina Hookoomsing is a short-story and poetry writer based in Mauritius. She was raised in London and is currently doing doctoral research in the field of anthrozoology. She has published poetry in the local Mauritian press and her short-stories have been published in editions of the trilingual Mauritian literary anthology, Collection Maurice. She facilitates creative writing clubs and workshops, and has performed at spoken word events around the island.
Beautifully deep poem. Your style draws the reader into the eerily hollow setting and your words translate the florilège of emotions conveyed almost paradoxically by the (temporary?) void experienced by the woman…
There’s something haunting and sad about this poem but the ‘ending’ has traces of hope and maybe even a kind of liberation perhaps.
Seems like something familiar.. keep it up..
there is a kind of freedom gained once everything’s gone in that whirlpool/hurricane/tornado…
I imagine her losing all these things in the ‘swirling sea’ of her kitchen sink and as the previous comment said, having a kind of freedom of escaping the ‘locked doors’… It’s a really interesting poem.