Second poem recited at the Caferati, Open Mike at Habitat Centre, New Delhi

 Nemesis

Who sits there? 

In the dark webbed corner

Looks like my insolent wife

But why is she draped in all white

You, old childless hag

How dare you not put my colour

On the shriveled parting of your hair

Your unbearable smell

Your impaled hair

Your heavy shapeless shadow

Even shrouds the moon

  

I ache, for that golden one’s

Pink, jasmine scented chiseled bosom

Those glorious rose lips

That gives me life

My lord, for 15 years, yes 15 years

I honeyed my pain

My youth fed your hunger

My body was your bonded slave

I laced your life with my smell

Sheltered your empty lustful seeds

After those, 15 years, yes 15 years

You gifted marks on my body

Like a beast you trashed me

Our bedroom became a whore’s house

And my ears rocked with her moans

I sat in that dark webbed corner

Waiting to be called

Like a withered tree

I was left to rot

I shrunk and died that very day

Yes sir, in this dark webbed corner

I was born again into a glistening light

Now you dare to claim your right

I don’t need a wimp to colour my hair

I have lit the pyres and mourned your death

30 April 2011