Collective Unrest

 

Kumari Trishna Shakya, Three-Year Old Living Goddess, Nepal

March 6, 2019

Little Miss Trishna
with banyan tree body
is selected as ruler today.
She has the thighs of a deer,
a soft duck voice, and a gold
complexion displayed.

Little Miss Trishna
can’t eat what she wants
or allow her skin to draw blood.
She avoids hen eggs
and chickens. She never drops
her footsteps in mud.

Little Miss Trishna
who the gods did bestow
sat in red to be worshipped all day.
Along came her flow
that rushed on beneath her
and banished the goddess away.

Little Miss Shakya
fastened her bralette
in the temple’s back alleyway.
Now to a home where
her brother forgot her
to learn how to love and to play.

Little Miss Shakya
ten years a goddess
will work in an office one day.
She may marry or not,
with the men’s superstitions,
keeping all prospects at bay.

Little Miss Shakya
can’t read or write
or type like the others today.
While the others in school,
her face full of make-up
so the village could worship and pray.

 

Crystal Stone is a poet living in Ames, IA. Her work has appeared in various international journals including Coldnoon, Writers Resist, Southword Journal Online, Poets Reading the News, New Verse News and others. She is pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing at Iowa State University. Her first collection of poetry, Knock-off Monarch, is forthcoming from Dawn Valley Press this fall. Her TEDx talk “The Transformative Power of Poetry” is live on YouTube. You can find her on Instagram @stone.flowering or Twitter @justlikeastone8. To schedule events, check out her website: www.crystalbstone.com. You can find her book at https://www.amazon.com/dp/0936014253.

Please follow and like us:
In category:
Newer Post

Night Shift Snack Break

I insert the coins into the money slot. Then, the small pack of soda crackers that is first in line gets betrayed by its comrade immediately behind: The latter pushes the former off the edge, and it plummets helplessly until…
Read
Older Post

a theory of anatomies

The men found her and sat on her legs, winding her body backwards and forwards until all that was left was a wind up toy plucked out of a child’s jewelry box. Heavily pregnant, she walked. A shattered lady, white…
Read
Random Post

Approaching San Francisco

Like a handmade model to scale; even lines, finely painted details. There’s a spot on the Bay Bridge where the picturesque city looks not quite real: a postcard or seagull’s low-flying periphery. Any moment, a guy dressed like a giant…
Read
Random Post

Bleeding Out

This is how the rich abandon the poor we forget them because we can, over and over again           Don’t you see? This is how the poor stay voiceless common slaves to our dictates, they cannot hold us to account           Do…
Read
Random Post

Two Poems by John L. Stanizzi

TOTAL WAR ON THE HIGHWAY OF DEATH -Highway 80 -February 26-27, 1991 Schwarzkopf lied about what was on the road; he tasted smoky ruins, flaming flesh. Like the fraud of the future with his thugs, this ranking swine voodooed his…
Read
Random Post

Pulse

I listened to the soft racism in the booth next to me. Heard it spread across the room, become sexist and then homophobic before it rested at my foot. Western Colorado is not all that unlike Utah, or Texas, or…
Read