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Collective Disapproval

  • Published at 04:34 pm March 10th, 2019
Collective

Poetry

I breathe in

the collective disapproval

as I invade their spaces

clad in skinny jeans,

and a Monroe T-shirt.


I can taste

the sharp tongue

of their minds;

eels thrashing around

in the pool of holy verses.


I smell the stench of their rebukes:

“…astagfirulla…”

“…roja romjaner mashe…”

“…bukey kapor de magi…”

and count the movement of

fast-spinning eye-balls.


I can feel

the heat

of their gaze,

the aggression

of their smiles, 

the lust 

of their morality

branding 

my firmly turned back. 


The unpublicized rape

of my independence.