My wistful heart flutters
as I pull up to 464 Marve Street
the nondescript building from my childhood.
Buried under debris
everything is gone
save the echoes of my memories.
how the four of us sat huddled together on the wobbly ottoman
how grandma stretched out on the cocoa-colored couch.
how Toby flung my favourite pink frock out the window
how I disheveled his neatly combed hair.
how Rusty hungered for sweets and savories after school
how he’d howl clambering up the building stairs.
how Charmaine made the most decadent tea ever
she made it using mint leaves grandma grew on the building terrace.
how we fought over the Television remote control
how I smashed Charmaine’s tiny skull against the old-fashioned kitchen tile.
how grandpa split Dairy Milk into four equal halves
how we trooped and paraded after him to the iconic Marve beach!
After snapping out of my reverie
I scour through the rubble
I pick up a battered brick
I place it on the passenger seat of my Maserati
Upon arriving home
I set it in the soil of my mint garden and weep.
Swati Moheet Agrawal is a poet and writer based in Mumbai, India. Her work has appeared in Potato Soup Journal, Cogito Literary Journal, The Criterion, The Dribble Drabble Review, The Pangolin Review, Mad Swirl, Ariel Chart, and is forthcoming in Thimble Lit Mag, The Spring City and Muse India. She tweets @MoheetSwati.