Leaving Jaffna

everyone prays
at the Murugan kovil. A thumb
paints your brow
with thiruneeru,
vermilion,
sandalwood paste.

Later, you find yourself
sat on a
concrete block
at a table of concrete.
The place war widows run,
depending on no one:

dhal, rice, bangles
of cuttlefish
afloat in bronze
???
—wild chicken,
more bone than meat.