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
