I would not touch such a woman

I entered her quiet bedroom.
The bed neatly made.
Covered with a light
Pinkish satiny comforter.

Near the radio time-clock
On the bed side table,
A copy of Bhagavad Gita.
A copy of Madushala lay.

On the walls hung
Two photos of her parents in frames,
Marigold garlands around them.
They did not look too old or too young.

The window with floral
Ruffled curtains looked out
In the backyard garden
Where roses and lilies waved.

Against the wall facing the window,
Her dressing table with plain and
Magnifying oval mirrors with brushes
Creams, rouge and mascara lay.

In a corner, a little shrine.
A small statue of Durga in sari
With a bindi on the forehead.
A smoldering stick giving off

fragrance of roses with rose petals
scattered at it’s feet was placed.
Small pictures of Shiva, Sarasvati
Laxmi and Kali adorned the shrine.

Her dead parents lived in her mind.
Her dead gods blessed her soul.
She fought demons of madushala
With dharma of Krishna of Gita.

What's lusting for love to her?
What's lusting for sex to her?
Can her heart ever feel what’s
Dying and be born again in love?

I could have her but wouldn’t want her.
She could have me but wouldn’t want me.
Women, as Lawrence said once, don’t want sex.
They want men. They bargain sex for men.

I would not touch such a woman.