Your Promise

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Promises made by sunlight are seldom broken.

You were there, when
mother and i toured
the dana house
built by frank lloyd wright in springfield, illinois

commissioned by a woman who
dabbled in the occult
in reincarnation

the dining room’s
stained-glass windows
trace you
in all stages of existence

s u s p e n d e d


full-flighted fruition

at ten a.m., when southeastern sun shines
it bears you on each beam – gives birth to you on each surface
you alight on

our arms
our faces
our white t-shirts into impressionistic paintings

we stand
as if inside
your self-made sarcophagus
preparing for a life thereafter

rest now
on the chest
of my mother
laid out on our dining-room table for burial

your promise

on that


w i n g s p a n


Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you too have a poem you’d like to submit, do mail us at


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