Scaled: Truth is a Bitch

At her very core, a nurturer
starving from various
forms of malnourishment: cuerpo y alma.
                                            Grace and very fine

movements define the chiseled sculpture of that
woman’s body at the mercy of the Man. She is

the mother of air, the beauty,
poetry. A fitting Queen for dogs.

Know My Name

As sick as she is, the Rose

entered the Cathedral.  Every step

 

taken with a long, hard,

exacting stare, while she peels off

 

each layer and layer, fiber to fiber,

to the silky petal of skin.  Textiles slip

 

off in succession, while she strides

down the aisle.  Grasping the last

 

bottle in her small world, step, by

lightly, step.  It’s Frankincense.  The bottle

 

seemed to open itself just to find the delicate

follicled flesh.  Anointed in a gift of oil

 

soothing she gifted herself, she climbs naked on the altar

before the Passion depicted on walls.

Till Your Roots Run Dry

She wilts.  A rose silent in its solitary

 

dying at a death camp of flowers

on a remote Himalayan           mountain.  There’s a place

 

where some people are            afraid of what grows

from the ground calling it garbage

 

with a foreign tongue.  After the war of Capital

Gain—also known as economic

 

conflict, everything’s lost.  So to soothe her

own synapses she uses her thorns

 

to etch a sweet little ditty.  A slow

 song for a sick rose.   

Ain’t No Misbehavin

Indifference is an extreme

 

form of cruelty.  So many suffering

because someone has to suffer

 

for the greater good of someone.  Even if they are

 

just sheep staring blankly at each

other, while a pack of dogs

 

demolishes the herd one by one in the trusting

 

bleats of the blinded badly. Nothing communicates

death as loudly as silence. 

 

It’s poverty of person: a dishonoring of the self—the one

 

that’s a part of everything else.  In the void of meaning,

so it’s all meaningless senselessness.  Now, that too is

 

nearly gone.  Real gone, as if voice were

 

some allusive abstract thing, but all you gotta

do is write that shit down.

Being Silently Drawn by a Stronger Pull

Always a series of complications, life is what

it is, some are more skilled translators

 

transmitting the frequencies of what that means. Some are just

 

illiterate, because they were tricked into believing lies

dressed up by lies.  Truth just dances in the shadows,

 

in those fissures of peripheral vision.

 

Mein lieblings schattentanzer.  A strong line slowly

lowers the toned and taught muscles of the female

 

form of a cat burglar from the ceiling. She’s harnessed by her

 

waist, making that sculpted body fold backward in a teardrop

shaped back-bend.  Grabbing her ankles, she lifts her eyes

 

to engage the view of her sparkling prize between her

knees slightly bent and splayed open.  We constantly

 

abstract the things we see with language—telling

 

roses to behave a certain way, or forgetting that

some things cannot translate—which at best fails

 

us every time.  Give it up cause you

 

don’t understand the mechanics of expressing

any truth but your own, unless you become

 

a skilled thief of beautiful things.

 

Post Hysterectomy Love Letter

It’s terrifying what you’ve done

to me.  Each cosmic micro-moment

 

your lips were on mine reminded me that I am

indeed a woman, so there is no

 

need for the symbol

 

in a metalwork design shaded by sharp

greys and blacks on my belly

 

to remind me so.  The vacancy of my womb

deprived of organs, makes me a partial

 

woman with cancerous female parts, so I

thought.  Now, I don’t know what I am.

Call for Submissions:

http://yuyusharmainspiredpoems.blogspot.com/2014/03/yuyutsu-sharmas-eternal-snow-anthology.html?spref=fb

Yuyutsu Sharma’s Eternal Snow: An Anthology of Poems originating from Yuyu’s interactions, Readings and Workshops

Edited with an Introduction by
David Austell & Kathleen D Gallagher
Fellow poets and writers!
If you have had the pleasure of meeting or interacting with Yuyu or had the opportunity of attending this internationally renowned Himalayan Poet’s  workshops, you are herein invited to submit to the upcoming  anthology, tentatively named,  Eternal Snow: An Anthology of Poems Originating from Yuyu’s Works, Readings and Workshops.
Please submit your work for consideration to 
Kathleen D Gallagher to
 galkathleen@gmail.com 
We look forward to reading you submissions.
More details follow…
  Namaste!