She keeps her soul in the locker
and moves out for a body bargain
in the bright night killing her dreams.
Her voice sleeps in the quiet,
on-off of lights no more bother her
no hands left or right wipe her tear
as no hands are
the same every night
for them, she is a body for
a night.
Her scarlet dress has no letter on it
all eyes stare at her, faces ogle
but she walks on high heels
the click-clack wakes her senses
to return home for a wash.
The Ganga water in
soap
makes her Draupadi again.
Takes out her soul from locker
wears and marches in pride
in the morning sun temple wards,
priests rush at her with vermilion
to touch her cheek and forehead
to put their holy mark.
Sabita Sahu
No comments:
Post a Comment