Mahadevi
Even as a child I was mesmerised by clouds.
My parents knew I wasn’t like other girls,
patient about the whole days I’d give to gazing
into puddles, contemplating the gauzy
wings of bees, forgetting to wash.
I agreed to the wedding if he made no objections
to the time I spent in the long weeds, lost
in the sky. But he was always pawing at me,
lifting up the muddy silk, moaning into my breasts.
I’d breathe, float, out and up through the canopy.
When I left I grew my hair long and unbrushed;
naked, scraped myself a hole in the earth.
I move about at night mostly.
The stars flash and my ears thrum. I marry
myself to the murmuring moon, the water.
Page(s) 68
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