Lady Janus


One day,
I tucked away my weapons,
just for fun, (I’m all about fun)
lifted them from the corners of
my lips, excised metal jutting from
my hips, slid twin blades out from inside
my wrists, softened my razor smile,
stilled my whiplash tongue, blinked
Medusa from my eyes, retracted the full
set of pantherobot jaw – to see my body ,
in the reflection, and heard all its stretch marks
echo in wonder.

There is nothing here
to see, but the usual
gloriously mundane perennial
nudity, underneath the peeling skin,
like cinnamon! (I no longer) bark,
this is stark stripping without tease,
(but there is always room, laughter for
shedding while moulting, sweet brown
sugar, tasty caramel dust!- haha I should sell this :P)

Because I am not the same old woman
I once was; a smiling girl lady, now, only
twenty-five, open, like a conch shell at the beach
and not at Kurukshetr, no shank(h)s for wartime calls
and family feuds, and cutting a family tree down,
outside my home in Delhi, I fought for it, a grandma at five.

Living
is an art, like nothing else,
and I might as well
do it well, if not exceptionally.

I’m coming back in sunlight, to shock, to
entertain, to delight! friends and family
alike.

And so this is recovery,
re-membering, and re-living
moments, and re-turning back from
what was not quite
Cotard’s bedside,
not quite Gomorrah,
not quite, but close enough, I’m
coming back to go forward.

What lies beneath, I wonder
so poke if you are curious!
Flesh, bone, and what else
lies in the detritus?

A laser gaze for petrifying?
or a sari story, never ending

petticoat, and phoenix wing?
Or snake sheddings,
and shape shifting pebble dreams?

Face dancing smile twinkling?
or bright eyes for a witch queen!

(weapons buried in
deep earth or in just
deeper desi skin?)

old boy, young man:
haha just what
do you think
your staring will do?

(beware, haha!
are you scared?)

You never know,
I just might laugh,
might turn my face(s)
and look right back at you.

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