Delhi's Poem

Your streets enamelled ebon

go red and green

when life begins,

a merry-go-round

of moored matins graying

for grace, they vandalised your belly

raising brick buildings

on your brown skin,

stealing your vermilion to paint

the lips of a keep,

fireballs were fanned in your alleys

when frost blinded the

eyes of a masquerade

appeals fight for an answer

being smothered in signatures

and stuffed into sacks.

Today after ten years

my skirt has grown longer

when my bruises

healed with the hooch of heresy

I've seen your fight with time

and thank myself for

having read from your books.

First published in Writing Disorder published here and the First Prize Winner of the Wordweaver contest 2012.