Sunday, January 2, 2011

The Way Out

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