The night was just like any other
In the dim lit veranda flies buzzed
My mother’s skin burning hot
She lay motionless on the torn mat
My father hovered over her with bare feet
Green herbs he pressed to her lips
Threw angry glances at me
I cried as not to wake her up
It is only her milk filled breast I seek
They whispered in the dark corners
Bundled in a old sari smelling of her sweat
Wrapped with calloused hand in rage
They didn’t have to dig for long
I smell earth fresh and wet
Cold unlike my mother’s full womb
It is darker than the night
Soothing somehow
My mother did not even know my name
To my father we were all the same
Womb to grave by the passing night
Having no penis, even before it began, I lost the fight
Reshma Ramesh
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/just-a-girl-8/
