Newest28 / 30

Instructions for Leaving a Country

Dev Ramanathan

Prose poem · Loss · Memory

Take the photographs out of their frames; the frames are heavier than the years. Take the recipe your mother never wrote down, which means take your mother, which means take the morning she stood over the pot and would not say how much. Leave the plates. Leave the good ones especially — you will not be the kind of person who has occasions for a while.

← Back← → move · Esc leaves
Up nextSonnet for the Unpaid InvoiceI wrote to you in April, then in May,