My Grandma From Kuliyapitiya

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My grandmother
Who looks down on me from the heavens
Seemingly still in those halcyon days
When the kitchen dripped of oil-fragrances
And pappadams would be a crispy staple

She would fry me pappadams galore
As she glittered my eyes with taste lanterns
My cheeks would fill with samba rice
Bloated in to sheer satiety

And my pappadam face would gaze at her
Cheeks seemingly about to burst
In to a four inch smile – from ear to ear
Knowing what she bribed me with a pappadam
Was her own token of love….

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