Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Another Kind of A Woman

She is the bowl for the bile
bought at a bonus
bid for her blood
every day her corpse
wrestles with her wages.
Her shriek is wedged
in her bellow
and the pain in
the fatigue of a fret
a martyr of misery
paralysed to pathos
of passion.

She is astute in her art
trading her belly
for a testimony unwritten
she has three saplings to water
fourth may be sown in a September
or in another nine months
amidst the fall of her fruit
her wame hasn't been dogged
by the shadow of sin
her mission is to trade her words
for a bit of brass
till the spring doesnt
hibernate to autumn's abeyance
she has to build a house
and dig her grave
the time is less
and the stakes going high.

First published in Mused here

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