Painting my face may help.
Strong lines of white,
yellow and red.
My body a deep purple.
He likes me scrubbed clean.
Every tiny morsel.
I could wear
a feather head dress.
Tomahawk in hand,
dance the Voodoo.
Throw some magic.
Bring the rain.
Pierce his heart.
Blood may taste fine.
They say a bear
licks a man’s feet
and kills him with laughter.
I could become a bear.
(C) ABHA IYENGAR, First publsihed in Up the Staircase, Issue 10, August 2010
Sunday, January 2, 2011
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