Family Dinner by Armaan

Armaan is an undergraduate student of English Literature at the University of Edinburgh. When he is not running late for lectures, he may be found wandering aimlessly around the library or at the university’s climbing wall. His poetry is forthcoming in the Indian Literature Journal and he aspires to write frantically for the rest of his life.


Family Dinner

A round table, with one leg too short,
Ten chairs taking a space for six,
All under lightbulbs dim and flickering,
White light, not bright, rather dimmering,
Shining on backs hunched over steel plates,
Curved spines on straight-backed seats.
Mother sits in the corner, with eldest daughter,
One eye on the stew still simmering.

Father, grandfather and uncles
Eat away like the termites in the walls.
Those ploughs won’t pull themselves.
The meal is done, scraps remain,
Mother calls for the youngest.
All this in a space for six.
Sitting under dimmering bulbs,
Lines drawn in the land are mirrored by
Lines drawn on each hand.
The middle child shifts in his seat
To avoid an uncle’s elbow in his meat.
One can just about see
The creases on colourless foreheads
That move up, as smiles greet
A beetle stuck in the stew
Of the youngest, confused.
For once, even mother is amused.


You can find more of Armaan’s writing via Medium.