Friday night, the naked lady sits in my apartment
Thick grasses around her pudendum
Dark weeds in her armpits
Lizards in her hair
I’m hungry, she says
Slapping her stomach
Caked with what looks like dried blood
I can hear the hungry rumble
For no reason I think of sinkholes
I notice the blood-dripping lions tattooed on her
breasts
I’m hungry, she says
Haven’t eaten in a while
The last snack I had was when, in nineteen forty
seven?
But now I really want to eat
I mean a full meal
And I don’t care what you give me
Cooked, uncooked, stir-fried or roasted
Sons or daughters
Husbands or wives
Brothers or sisters
I’ll have them all
Oh, I could easily eat an entire generation
Munch through the bones of your friends
Eat the muscles of your enemies
It’s all the same
It’s blood I like
Can’t wait to put my canines through your eye
sockets
Give up your body, give it to me
I run out of the apartment
Half-crazed into the night, shouting
Bharat Mata ki Jai
Bharat Mata ki Jai
"Bodhisatva’s Tusks" (1914), Abanindranath Tagore/ courtesy Lifestalker
