Oh! She Killed an Unborn

"Oh, whisperer of my bosom,

Musician of my moans

Make me dance like a serpent:

Plucking strings of my skin,

Whispering in the dark,

Sip the nectar of my valleys."

Stars on my skin

Ignited with love so haunted,

Glowing at burn's bargain;

Lust smoked into the night, and—

Thundered through my shell,

Felt like pearls on fire, but—

Now the shell cracks, stars fall.

Crumbled papers and never-uttered swears,

Swinging between tainted moons,

And falling through galaxies,

To the universe and back to vapid pupils,

I cry on my kitchen floor,

Chills on a summer night,

Mountains wail in protest

"There's no heart on her sleeves,

Bathe the slut in saltwater!"

Niobe envies my chance, and—

Scathing masters of spin

Mourn my relief,

"Oh, she killed an unborn!"

Drawing circles in circles on circles through circles

Dancing in loops and mimicking

And crawling through hoops of flames,

Mirrorballs showing me

In dark and darker infinite—

Kaleidoscope of agony;

Like art of pearls and crosses,

Make me a potion for my last smile,

Let me die like an august folk song.

I am Disha Sarkar, an English Literature graduate from India. I like to read and study about races, classes, castes, marginalised communities, gender, languages and cultures.