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Reincarnation

The grating rises. Inside, great coils sear with redness. The shroud is ripped off and thrown to a side. I look away: grandpa's belly has bloated beyond measure. They wrench my hands away. With a firm push, the trolley races into the coils. Huge flames erupt, licking the seasoned body. A lever is swung, the grating crashes down.

Morning. An ashen-faced man scans a shelf. An urn, neatly labeled, is placed on the counter. Ashes and a bone fragment.

A priest chants by a river. A brinjal and some white flowers float away.

mother's song
the pressure cooker
hums with her

(Published in Haibun Today June 2015)


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