chaiNboli

  You shove sunflowers into my mouth, Hoping for words with sugar whiskers and similes of sunshine. Appear from it like a magician’s hat. You snatch away my pen thinking That it will stop me from weaving ink blotted black dreams And crush my metaphors in the violent hooks of your pride. You lock me in Xanadu and walk me through the doors of domes, Telling me not to raise my eyes, because I am a daughter. I am a daughter, with pistols in her fingers, In search of lakes where poets went to die.   I am a doll abandoned by the puppeteer Seeking refuge in the market mud, since I refused to dance his song. I am humpty dumpty, who braid my hair with spiderwebs, Knowing that the ache of falling is a hidden cry Kept under pink tongues and vermillion hearts. I am a street artist who eats fire for living And sell my mulberry stained soul to a baker, So that he can feed the dead parrots some fortune cookies. I am not a pet with your lash on its neck, ...