 Nandini
Dhar's poems have appeared or is forthcoming in Muse India
and Sheher:Urban Poetry by Indian Women. Nandini grew up in
Kolkata, India, finished her M.A. In Comparative Literature from
University of Oregon, and is now a Ph.D. Candidate in
Comparative Literature at University of Texas at Austin.
june 6, 2003
the edges of your skin might give out a metallic cry, who knows!
the tips of
your skin might give out a sob, who cares! your fingers hurt
against the
wood. the wood smells of waves and sand. "bitch, why don't you
spread your knees."
pain penetrates you drop by drop
pain penetrates you wave by wave
in penetration
there is only pain.
a piece of the sky floats in your eyes. there is no bird in the
sky of your
eyes. the fingers on your knees tighten their grip. the salt on
the skin
would have loved to cling. "bitch, how long does it take to move
your
knees."
pain penetrates you drop by drop
pain penetrates you wave by wave
in penetration
there is only pain.
there are times when windows provide no respite. a bird is in
the sky of
your eyes. the bird will never find the sea. the fingerprints on
your bones
begin to speak. "bitch, why don't you spread your knees."
pain penetrates you drop by drop
pain penetrates you wave by wave
in penetration
there is only pain.
your torso under fingertips. your shoulder blades touch the
floor. the
skin begins to shriek. your tongue doesn't care to speak.
"bitch, how long
does it take to move your knees."
pain penetrates you drop by drop
pain penetrates you wave by wave
in penetration
there is only pain.
words need space to breathe. fingers clutch at sand. little
girl, begin to
count instead. In numbers, you find solace. "bitch, why don't
you spread
your knees. "
pain penetrates you drop by drop
pain penetrates you wave by wave
in penetration
there is only pain.
one... two.. three... four...
the skin is on the edge of a hill
five...six...seven...eight...
the sea will never be the same
nine…ten…eleven…twelve
the sky smells of skin
thirteen... fourteen... fifteen... ten...
the knees have begun to speak
twelve... thirteen... fourteen...
it will be hard to learn to walk again.
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