Weeping Boys and Girls

So raw, unfiltered
through sun/moon/stars
bathing and
drinking in
naked showers/swimming pools.
Don’t cover up!
Flaunt/hide your
daisies; this basket has always been here.

//sunny, sunny, but it looks like it’s raining through that window//

Weavers weaving weeping
some brewing/ cooking
soup and vitriol.
Both taste the same
from your moms’ silver cup.
Daddies hiding, benches screaming
weavers keep weaving.

//big basket, give it to your big brother; he will carry it, darling//

Paltry piercings;
thin silver chains
through your belly button and
a tiny golden dot
on your left nose-cheek.
Peachy, you look perfect
body/modification and all.

//tattoos hurt a little but never as much as a good old tongue split//

Night draws in
blanket hover, heavy
sleepy eyes, slipping/evergreen
under dreams. Somnambulating
a fight, but it looks like she is
dancing. She is screaming
but it looks like she’s singing/sighing.

//giggle, giggle; I have honestly never heard that sound come out of you, boy//

Pickle jars
clutched too tight between glass
for his soft/small hands
to wrench open.
Bleed maybe?
Cut the glass bruises build better boys.
Sickly sweet; close your tongue.

//let me guess, we are all so very different in your eyes//

Photo Credit: Egg.Coffee via Compfight cc

Paakhi Bhatnagar

Paakhi Bhatnagar is a student from India and an avid reader of historical fiction. She is a passionate feminist and blogs about current politics and feminist issues. She also possess the uncanny ability of turning everything into a debate.

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