Some Senryu

.

eczema-

i run into my ex

again

.

women’s day-

i find the toilet seat

down

.

(accepted for publication in 'Wild Voices: an anthology of small poems & art by women')

To Live

Do not offer me grief
like toffees
on a glossy plate
nor asphyxiate me with
joy, numbing
my senses
toddy-high

do not

do not
No, do not caress that
temptress-
the noose
my heart entertains
now and
then-
an anesthetic
still
ness
admonishing pain.

Throb-wanting,
dregs of life stick
ing
at wounds
alive
to pain

alone.

blood rush, and
some medicine-
morphine, maybe.

blue limbs merge
into
greenery of the
curtains

a passe.

a prick in the wrist,
and life jostles
back,
gushing, plodding,
throbbing within

and,

thin drops of hot
blood
dri
b
b
le
red and real

like tomato ketchup on
your wedding gown.
Not a dream, no,
not yet
I gasp in
and out
of
life.

Call me Femi-Nazi

Unclothe me with your eyes,

Hungry hands and mind,

Or your words

that spell like fear

of your sex’s weakness

I am not ashamed

I am but a woman.

Hear my story,

Turn a deaf ear, shy away

Walk past, plugging me out

Cry or console my loss

Chide me, ask me to shut up.

Ignore me

I still shriek of injustice

I am but a woman.

Call me the goddess, your alter ego,

The prostitute or the slut,

the femi-nazi,

The woman you can only

dream of bedding, or

The whore you fucked

last night,

Or your mother

I am multiple orgasms

I am but a woman.

Shred my ego to pieces,

revel in chivalry

Or slap me down

grovelling in the gravel

Mould me to your choice

I will be the lady

and the bitch

I am everything.

I am but a woman

Ban my blood and

own my womb

Taboo my body

for three whole days

Seed it with lust the next

I choose to be childless, to bleed freely

I am but a woman.

Don’t love my love handles

put me down with my weight

My full grown body

an eyesore.

Try me into body issues

I will not fit in

I am but a woman

Say I am too modern,

Outrageous, or too traditional

to suit your tastes

Judge me with the size of my bindhi

Or the way I drape my

Sari just below

my navel, or the swiftness

with which I cover my head

when seen

Or the click of my six inch heel

I am the permanent outcast

I am but a woman.

Thrust upon my body

masks of masculinity

Penis-obsessed,

your hard rock ego swells with

each sloppy kiss-

That testosterone high

Fails to stir me enough

I prefer women

I am but a woman. 

my first haiku

temple bells...
morning dreams clang
with one another

Screech

go dumb, i plead
but my mouth screeches on

to his obvious
shock

cracking his ego
chip by chip-

now sticky eggshells
lie all over
the sink

my voice so new
sinks into a gulp

and births a squeal
like the one you hear at
slaughterhouses

he questions my discipline
and decorum too
searching, i find them

gone with my
long-wed silence

Fossilized Fear

My fear confounds

the living into death walls

and remains unpeeled long after

the mask is put to rest.

Unknown faces scorch holes in memories,

thawing cells that are now fossilized for eternity.

My eyes droop, aware of body-chilling

icicles that pierce out through toe-nails.

Known masks, like paroxysm,

asphyxiate, fusing my breath into

a sulfurous void.

A leach upon my life or a stalking lover,

it gnaws at my flesh as I succumb slowly,

hoping,  palpitating for a wisp of air,

as I breathe in more fear. 

a tanka

the sky jilts
pink hues for the blue...
a chameleon
blurs into the bushes
sensing my displeasure