They pinned your nerves out on the screen
Curled you in formaldehyde, small singularity
Bound you with sinews, pulled ends in a bow
And sold and re-sold you, gift and discardment,
To us at half-price with the evening bulletin.
Glued together; propped up; not quite human.
One ambidextrous hand, or rather a paper bag
Over a face more interesting to this sideshow.
Should we mourn you? The advent of disgust
Tainted such thoughts, besides it wasn't our duty.
Yet somehow, the accusation when it caught us
Had to scream, because our heads were bowed.
How could we dare to disregard the women? You
Became a small passing, smothered in suffering.
The burqas soared like terrible birds as the sun
Forgot you, and a fence imprisoned the wind
And needles pierced our lips to silence. Unlike you
-Apologies, the women - we had never learnt
The language of rape. And still we chose to stay
At this funeral, this circus, this ever causeless rally.
We know rapes are undemanding. They refuse
Toys, obey a skilled keeper, propagate so easily.
Have few qualms on diet. Mouths necklaced
With saliva, they roar like African cats: Meat!
One chanced to find you, beneath that bloody sun...
We swarmed; we lapped your cloud of shame,
We thought a virgin's blood, the purest of the pure
Once spilled, could heall all ills. So why did yours
Have such a bitter taste? Had it been sullied by
The rust upon the scale we chose to weigh it on?
Your frailty on one side, the women on the other:
The only way we knew. Perhaps, it would be best
To let your blood-wings fly you to the women.
They would cradle your teardrop-heavy head
And stroke it through that egocentric spasm when
Amidst human dust and city shards, you dared
To pray for a shroud.