Sleeping Scorpions

(A poem by Kamala Das, from the book 'Closure: Some Poems And A Conversation')

In my grandmother's house
a long time ago, there were
some sepia-tinted photographs
framed and hung on the walls.
Whenever i lifted one by its edge,
a scorpion stirred itself
from its stupor and raised
its tail. They hurt so
when they sting, cried
my grandmother, they have
a venom stored within...

The past is best when left alone.