Beads of Sweat

The sweat beads sparkle on her fair forehead She is selling fish in her black sari A little money for her daily bread In the black slum she lives in a shanty While she cleans and slices into pieces Sweat drops shine like pearls of toil on her cheek All blinds the windows in joy unleashes To feel the guitar in its raw music The knife suddenly grazes her finger Drops of blood blending with that of fishes She laughs and sucks the cut skin, we linger Until her dressing job she finishes Humming a tune I returned home unclogged Three red roses in my room get unlocked August 6, 2017