Madhuri

By John Grey

She mostly wears t-shirts and jeans

but occasionally, when in the mood,

out comes the sari of many colors

that wraps her body

like a wind-whipped sail around a mast.

And the songs that burst from her lips

are the usual American hit parade fare

but occasionally she warbles something

that wavers between familiar and strange.

She admits it’s from a movie she watched

the prior night on Zee-TV.

She’s not exactly a cultural battleground.

Such skirmishes are for her parents.

But, even if her accent is a lilt this side of Boston,

she figures her skin must be brown,

her hair dark, for a reason.

Her dream guy is someone called

Shah Rukh Khan even if her reality

is the kind of American Matts and Marks

who work at the office,

hang out at the bars and clubs.

I’ve been to her house,

seen how she complies

with old world ways

while staking out a claim here and there

for the new she embraces.

Her parents see to it that

traditions die hard.

For Madhuri, at twenty three, 

they live matter-of-factly.

John Grey is an Australian poet, a U.S. resident, recently published in Stand, Santa Fe Literary Review, and Sheepshead Review. His latest books are Between Two Fires, Covert and Memory Outside The Head.