Nautanki

I wake up to flashes

Wonders playing

Movement, impeccable movement

Greatness, Rand’s poetry

But I wake up

Still

The idle machine, my body

But chants, she is sore

Of worst kind of dull pain

Of unuse

Neck stretched out

Toes

Stomach, nipples

Tight face

Head of an actor

Dreaming

On a clothesline

Dripping pink

White and black

Oh, the greatness

That greatness

Give it to me, it’s mine

Envy fowl

I’d become much more

But nobody slaughtered me

For flesh

Still here

To let