Friday, April 25, 2014


She shelters it under
a shield, that they call
a veil or a wrap
a shroud to silence an eclipse
or her act of apology
for being Eve's daughter
she has no excuse to dump
the drape, sun shade for some
refuge for others,
she swears by that
piece of cloth
to avert the mimicry
of misunderstood metaphors,

as she buries her head in
the cloak of the crown
the inane irony leads
to a soundless squeal,
of rights resigned
in rueful regret,
ebbing in echo of
homage to the head
to whom her entirety is entailed
or a smack of
scriptural severity
for many,
assertion not allowed
for their blindfolds
were sewed to be
her burial cloth.

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