Red or Blood?
You like my red bindi,/The holy crimson on my forehead;
You like my eyes, my cheeks
Painted in red rouge;
You like my lips,
soaked in glossy red;
You like my red saree, the red veil
So long that I trip on a plain road…
Why that cringe at the blood in my pants?
Why you stop me at the door, every month
For the impurity of your ‘sacred red’?
Red, the veil of goddesses;
But oh! How the definition of ‘red’ slips
From head, cheeks to the (w)’hole’ of my vagina!