It is not some chicken
that rests on those breasts
they feed your next generation
pluck them out and you’ll see death
all around, you do think to pluck those
every night in a small corner of your bed
you might be a father, brother, husband or
just some man who is desperate to drive fast!
The bra your own make
to cage those breasts have
been thrown away, the moment
is to get her obeying, to be quiet until
the scene gets a climax, you think of them
by seeing the strap from a ten feet distance
in a bus, or some place where everyone’s blind
you explain its color and size to spread it like religion!
Those thighs you touch
by a mere push of your waist
have been seen to be of a sapling,
that blindfolded head thinks obnoxious
but yells loud to defend the touch by shame,
“the girl is a slut, her dress is short, she is too free
the skin calls, her goggles have us as the proof,
we’re mere men who believe that these are ours”.
You see shame thriving
right in the G spot of a vagina,
the watch says five, and you release
a scandal, you filmed her above a concrete
and now it is free, she’s watched, you fondly smile
take the fondling of dicks as the best compliment
her heart’s a lie, her works become a bad dream
the posters say the shame is written on vaginas!
You drink her with wine
throw them on her body to wet
the parts you think of, the six packs
hardly care of her packs when she’s bloody,
a father enters her for he’s a man, a husband does
for he took charge to feed her, you open her badly
when she’s not yours, those bite marks of yours
say it loud that you know the world is not concerned!
Kabir Deb is a published writer and poet. Born in Haflong and completed his Masters on Life Sciences from Assam University. His work has been published from different national and international magazine like Different bTruths, Counter Currents, Reviews, Cafe Dissensus, Spillwords magazine and his works rely on political activisvm. He recently won the Reuel International Poetry Prize in 2019
