Miss Hema's Suicide

Written by: FABIYAS M V

A rural priest
rolls and throws out
the wedding mantras.
The ritualistic ululation
and the music of 
a toot and a drum
melt the winter.
The bridal garland,
like a noose,
awaits a bride’s neck.
The bride bows her head
in the traditional
rural Indian coyness.
A groom learns to forget,
for the dowry freezes his heart
and opens his foxy eyes.


A wick yields to the darkness 
beyond the nuptial rhythms.
The froth of love runs down 
Miss Hema’s chin.
She is stranded on the bluish eternity.
And the pressed love in her womb
evades all the typical questions.