The mango tree in my home bore delicious mangoes, one of the very first memories of my perception of taste. Writing about it, my mouth waters, like I already have a bowl of that diced golden delight- sweeter as it has the scent of my childhood. Loranthus is a parasitic vine that found its home in her. It sometimes claimed parts of her, and in the end, consumed the whole of her. This book of poetry is an ode to everything that was conducive to weaving me into what I am. Loranthus is a part of my childhood- one of the first few memories of hurt, of letting go and of waiting for the next season.

Like the parasitic vine that clings to its host, these poems cling to memories, emotions, and unspoken truths, drawing life from the very things that sustain and break us.

This collection delves into the depths of human experience.

For those who revel in poetry that is both deeply personal and universally resonant, Loranthus is a relatable place.