“Oppression that cannot be overcome does 
					not give rise to revolt but to submission.”
									            Simone Weil
As they eyed her she appeared
to be an object, clay yoni in a roadside stall
breasts pressed flat in a centerfold
open faced easy target, a boy’s wet dream
with no name, no heart, no home, no life. 

When they took her, the child, the girl, the woman
pinned as a butterfly in a black frame
an alley, a room, a bus, a public toilet
they say she lured them–skin, eyes, small soft hands
fingernails dug in, cries like a cat 
on prowled streets where porn hits back.

After they had her she fell
a crumpled candy wrapper, half eaten fast food 
tossed in a gutter, a package ripped of strings
like torn newsprint to wrap meat soaked in blood
but why don’t they see her in the headlines?
Screams from a gagged mouth become whispers. 
If she tells they don’t believe. They blame her.


for Jyoti Singh
from ‘Life on Earth’ (Omerta Publications)
and published in ‘Overthrowing Capitalism-Reclaiming Community’ - Volume 3