Cotton Candy

by Madathil Rajendran Nair

Gra pa!

I ate cotton candy,

it looked like

a full-blossomed rose,

but it has vanished

without a trace

in thin air.

Have I eaten it at all?

That was my granddaughter

just four years old.

Looking at the ceiling,

aged ninety,

half-paralyzed

in a stroke,

that is what they call it

in medical parlance,

I lay fathomless.

A cotton candy hung over me -

idiots call it Death.

Come down candy,

so I know you are a rose

that never existed

at all anywhere,

other than in the forebodings

of fools on an unfortunate globe

that sold themselves

to the idea of a beginning and an end.

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