I don't mean when a movie ends，

as in， it's a！ Nor tortillas splitting

with the heavy wet of bean.

And I don't mean what you do

with your lavender robe all fluff

and socks to snatch the paper

from the shrubs^{1. Nor the promise}

of a gift， the curl and furl of red ribbon

just begging to be tugged^{2. What I mean}

is waiting with my grandmama （a pause

in the Monsoon^{3） at the Trivandrum airport}

for a jeep. Her small hand wraps

again the emerald green pallu of her sari

tucked in at her hips^{4， across her breast，}

and coughs it up over her shoulder a hush⁵

of paprika and burnt honey across my face.