Proscribed Blood — 2

On this rainy night
The full moon hangs precariously
From the temple’s sacred mast
The radiance dripping
Into her nose-ring slips
Away and flies out
To catch her pecking parrot

Meenakshi follows the light, giving chase
As the moon pours down with the chill wind
As cold mist on the stone plinth,
Her soles sting and her body thrills
Wiping the trickle descending
Hotly between her thighs
With her long skirt, she runs

After flying through the thousand-
pillared hall on the outer perimeter,
Her darling parrot alights and perches
On the moon afloat on the surface
Of the Golden Lotus pond

Removing her undergarment,
She rinses it in the pond’s water
Impelled by the blood scent,
Fish swarm to her feet
And peck at her hands
She sets out to catch them
As in the days of yore,
Casting wide her sari’s end

Seeing the marvel
Of the pond’s moon
Turning red, little by little,
The parrot calls her, shrieking:
Meenakshi! Meenakshi!

PROSCRIBED BLOOD — 2