Root
Before
she was a grandmother, she was the fourth daughter, another useless female, of
an impoverished cook. Her rich uncle had use for her, in the kitchen and the
bedroom, until she started bleeding.
Then she was sent packing home, monsoon rains or not, to her
village. Chchi, dirty girl.
Tree
She
hadn’t even wanted kids, but it happened anyway. They felt like parasites,
sucking what little she had from her. Her life had been one of scraps of
attention, maybe an odd pat on the head. Her mother said you have food and a
roof over your head what more do you want?
Branch
The
girl practices ballet, knowing her pliés are terrible. It is her thighs, they
get in the way and spoil the clean profile. Her mother suggests cutting out
rice. Candy and chocolate were abandoned a long time ago. She squatted and
rose, squatted and rose, watching herself in the mirror. Chchi, dirty girl.
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