A Packet of Poppins

A Poem for My Daughter

My school tiffin was always so boring --
Same same, day upon day.

Two boiled eggs crashing away
against each other in their plastic cage, or
A jam sandwich, or
An 'aloo ka parantha' , which by break time was
neither 'aloo' nor 'parantha'.

I didn't much mind, but I did blow at a lot of eyelashes,
whooshing and wishing
That my mother, always too busy drinking tea,
Would surprise me

By slipping in something unlike her,
something not salty, something sweet.
A few Kismi toffees, or a packet of Poppins, maybe?

That's why when I tucked in my baby-girl's tiffin —
'paranthas' too like generational trauma —
into her tiny little backpack

I also popped in love notes scribbled in Poppin colours
So she feels a bit more mothered than I did me.