By Sunayna Pal
without caring for the actual peach
we would wait for Ma
to break open the seed
she'd place it in her copper mortar
and pound it with the pestle.
Chutki, Dad, and I
like vultures, as she begged
for elbow room
if the pit of the peach
pried open, with the tiny almond
unbroken, she'd strike the pestle again
to divide the prize evenly
but none of us ever
gave her a share
Sunayna Pal was born and raised in Mumbai, India and now resides in Maryland with her family. She made her literary debut with her book of poems “Refugees in Their Own Country” (B&W Fountain), which explores the Partition of India. Her work has appeared in numerous international journals and anthologies.
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