Womanhood by Anindita

Anindita Sarkar | Jun 17th, 2020 | poetry | No Comments


I never played with boys
they break hearts like toy cars
I feared they would stain my cotton pink dress
laced with frills procured from dandelion
I studied the mortality of grasses
never bothering about my books
tousled in a dingy corner of my drawer
my table was laureled with makeup kits.
Mother asked me to be desirable
but dirt slides under my petticoat made of roses
tendrils of black threads levitate under my armpits.
I deftly ignored the wisps of reality
like my mother who never opposed
the dreadful fangs of an abusive man
I bathed for hours
inking my skin with blood-red petals
I induced fluids into my cells
trying to case crystals on my cheeks
and to pour light from my pupils
I chanted Charlotte Bronte’s concluding statement
ten times a day ticking off lousy calendars,
to sail out on an arduous journey with a complete stranger.
The day we exchanged vows in a bellowing garden
I wished to quote from Emily Bronte
wanting to be a girl again.

Poet Bio

Anindita Sarkar is a Research Scholar from India. Her works have appeared in Indolent Books, The Heritage Review, Litehouse Journal, 433 mag, Cafélit among others.

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