CONSECRATED
by roshini sk

i pantomime myself
into prudence -
into propriety of the modern man

i’m tessellated into our mezzanine floor
when the gods are done with me
my milk-teeth are second-hand goods for the tooth fairy
my entrails are swept-up like bed crumbs
my wounds are onyx-eyed apertures
my sutures sullied and scorched
by pus and itchy fingers alike
i’m now as sordid as a desecrated peach
a desecrated pooja

you call me by your name
whenever you look at my fisted face
you say bloodied bitches -
are as self-induced as child labour

i wear my mangled limbs
like a garland -
when atoning Ganesh
to spite unbloodied bitches,
i say bloodied bitches were once
god-grazed,
men-handled,
cock-caressed,
and therefore i’m male-induced sacrament

i can see the longing
yearning for the effervescence of a man’s touch
yowling when he touches another woman’s thighs
keening as a bereft woman is as volatile as a stillborn

you are anointed like a ritual
your coffee carafe is on-the-rocks cold,
and i say to you
unbloodied bitches are as self-induced
as wielding the reversed judgement