Bini.B.S is a Lecturer in English at Parul Institute of Engineeering and Technology, Baroda. Her thesis titled "Towards a Genealogy of Time: The Fictional World of Anand and Salman Rushdie" has been submitted to the University of Kerala. She has published poems and articles in various journals. Mrs. Bini is part of a translation project under OUP titled "An Anthology of Malayalam Literature"

A Perfect Marriage

Congealed blood and sweat
Embroider my bare skin
Making a splendid wedding garment

To the cross of your pain
I lie
Suffering your wooden apathy
Towards my aches

The iron nails of fidelity
Turn rusty in my wounds
I realize
The worth of death as release

But I dare not die on you
Resurrection follows
Such deaths, inevitably

Earthly Life

In my courtyard
godlets and piglets
Wrangle and cavort
Well, I keep my doors shut
The Sons of Men shouldn't come out

To mingle with them

The carpenter
Makes only crosses and coffins
The butcher
Slaughters only young pigs
The farmer refuses to work here
His human soil hates
The seeds of heaven and the seeds of hell.

None knew how to make a cradle
None knew how to join the detached limbs together
And breathe life into them
So existence was hard, on earth
For both godlets and piglets

It is life, baby
In black and white
Die it or live it, colourful!

The Damned Female

As I worship at the ancient altar
Of family deities and ancestors
Concealed under the veneer of piety
Sacrilege and treason smirk at me

At the fringes of my vision
You materialize surreptitiously
The harbinger of calamity
Perfect, like a young Greek god

As I bow down before the household idols
I watch you through the corner of my eyes
Slyly, I sense the colossal cravings
Surge from the core of my being.

Your muscular body
Wrought in alabaster and tough
Yet wrapped in skin smoother than petals
Allure me to some preordained doom

At your sight
Storms stir at the heart of my femininity
Your eyes follow me day and night
I suck up your lethal lusts in sleep and waking.

Even your gaze penetrates me
It knocks at the walls of my womb
Like the wilful infant of disaster
Insisting on a corporeal ingress

Man, you are my end!

Moksha of the Quotidian Sort

Like an incessant chant
My amorous whispers
Thread through your quiet
Stitching a pattern of affection
On its blank surface
In turn
Like a mummy cloth
Your hands bind me in indifference
We reluctantly yield
To the needs of the flesh
My lusts die as they cross
The bounds of your infinite soul
Like a charred carcass floating on Ganga
My body begins the quest
Adrift on the currents of your physicality
In search of a saner heaven

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