Her Bedroom II - Ravi Kopra

I cannot imagine I am lying
In pajamas beside her in the bed
While she is still
Wrapped around in a six-yard-sari
Or in an evening gown still
With bras and panties underneath
The eyes of her parents
Peering at me through
Framed pictures hanging on the wall
And adorned with garlands of marigold
How dare do I touch her
Their daughter so innocent, so pure

And mother Kali
An avatar of mother Durga
Who listened to her prayers
Days and night for years
Might suddenly jump out
Of her statue of stone

Sitting on a blood thirsty
Roaring, black-streaked lion
Kali’s face darker than hell
Sclera brighter than mid-day sun
Stuck out pierced red tongue
With many silver spikes

Scantly dressed with many arms
Carrying the freshly cut-off
Head of some evil man still
Dripping red with blood
And in her other hands
A three-pronged Shiva’s spear

Some snakes and paraphernalia
Of cruel murderers and killers
Shouting out loud to me:
“Leave my sweet devotee alone
I will cut off your penis now
You will go to hell to rot.”

Her parents, her six yard sari,
Her kali mata, would scare me to death
And her ever smoldering sticks
Of incense of roses and jasmine
Still unable to hide the curry smell
Coming from her kitchen

Would make me crazy as hell
It is so nightmarish to me
I cannot think of myself
Holding her in my arms
Loving her there
Lying in her bed