In the middle of the consumer hall

You call. I see you:

A hat, a bobble a top

A head, fringed hair dark,

A nose, aquiline, like mine,

A glint, a spray of fervour,

A gaze, I catch it.

A shock, is it me?

I wonder, can it be?

Asunder, the beat, inside

A thunder, Gets churned,

open wide. But I hide,

hide still, still hide,

can you see me?

I daredn’t, I can’t, I won’t

Respond, can I? It hurts,

I shan’t, will you see me?

Is it real, I can’t tell,

I can’t reveal, won’t tell.

The risk, too high to risk,

Too wide to call, to hide the gall,

The gall of my mask unopened.

Society stands still and watches as I decimate myself with prejudice’s fear and hate.

All of my ten heads have been reared, each on a stake in the wake of past indecencies.

If I dare to respond with open eye, with open eyes, my hands aloft, my thighs are wide,

Will you not cut me down? each head severed: they roll,

the blood drips until the aisles are crimson tides,

Washing my cadaver away


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