Monday, February 28, 2011

Touch Me Not She Says

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an optical illusion
the poets hand
blesses as it strays
touch me not she says
engineered doom
in my solitary heart stays
for an ultimate release
from human bondage
she prays before her
face wrinkles
her boobs shrivel
her hair turns gray
hijra pain
every night
every day
tears on the surface
as the whip the flesh
embrace the hijra quest
the hijra chase
from the soul of
restless man
the quintessential
birth of
the hijra race
searching
for time and space

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