By Arundhathi Subramaniam
In the women’s compartment
of a Bombay local
we search
for no personal epiphanies.
Like metal licked by relentless acetylene
we are welded –
dreams, disasters,
germs, destinies,
flesh and organza,
odours and ovaries.
A thousand-limbed
million-tongued, multi-spoused
Kali on wheels.
When I descend
I could choose
to dice carrots
or dice a lover.
I postpone the latter.
© 2001, Arundhathi Subramaniam
From: On Cleaning Bookshelves
Publisher: Allied Publishers, Mumbai, 2001
ISBN: 81-7764-176-X
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