(Theme: Portrait of a Lady)
Tongs & Her
Her tiny fingers glide
across the iron
brand new
undiscovered
on the floor
beside the stove
she picks the tongs
claps its edges
claps her hands
once, twice, thrice
the mere metal invites her her eyes gaze sharply
her pupils bulge
she hears
the sound of iron
the sound of innocence.
Her dainty fingers outline words on a page
words with power
a sinless charm
opening gates
exposing pathways
merrily calling to take a stroll
the tongs but
cloak the page
wreck the dream
mutilate the desire
she picks the tongs
claps the edges
claps her hands
once, twice, thrice
she conforms to
the sound of iron
the sound of a restrained youth.
Her fingers, now brittle and bent are shelter to ash hair
preyed on by the hour
her youth has been swept
lost at sea
succumbed
collapsed in agony
she picks the tongs
claps the edges
claps her hands
once, twice, thrice
she mindlessly serves
but the iron soon rusts
it produces a sound
the sound of silence.
By Vaidehi Gupta, for the Trans Solidarity Fundraiser