The most desired widow
Of a politician to die,
The last I heard of you
Was when I saw you, two years ago,
Greeting the beaming H.O. State
With hands palmed in unison,
When you had expressed the desire
To strengthen his fate.
The Daily News had your ass, from back,
His face, from front, up front
On the first page.
Your once husband, by then, had
Defected, earned a traitor pin
And died; and I remember how I gaped
On TV, upon the coffin, as you cried.
Months before you became
A relief-evoking salbutamol;
Before I last saw you, palms together
Facing the tender smile.
And I search the net, now,
For your images. O’ widow,
Are you there, still, in
Black bordered white saree?
Is your grief, as it was, that day, unpassed?