The Weapon of Infamy

We never go beyond the arms and the eyes

Never ever seek the smell of semen.

We never linger in the fumes of the cunt

And rush to rinse us of the residual stain.

We never bite into flesh of those we hug

We never tousle limbs and check their stretch

We never think of hair as necessary ornament

And never leave behind a body in pain.

Yet poetry, so to say, a weapon of infamy

Serves men to defile all womankind

With words of unkind ingratitude

Even if a life has gone in service blind.

I for one would rather bear in mind

The lyrics pulling men’s dirty legs,

Rich in sarcasm and profound in lore

Witty and poignant and poetry at its best.

first published in Setu, March 2019