Standing Girl, 1910
Writhed and rusted,
she stands for now.
Spent eyelids, ice blue,
stuck on sullied skin;
this dun visage is
the colour of vice.
In the shallow pocket
of a threadbare ruffled jacket
cower the two sweets which bought this child.
Robbed of life by eager hands,
she is barely human - a collage
of bone and dirt. Outside,
she gazes at another stranger
and seems to say, with a prostitute's innocence,
"Come on"
Sanjay
she stands for now.
Spent eyelids, ice blue,
stuck on sullied skin;
this dun visage is
the colour of vice.
In the shallow pocket
of a threadbare ruffled jacket
cower the two sweets which bought this child.
Robbed of life by eager hands,
she is barely human - a collage
of bone and dirt. Outside,
she gazes at another stranger
and seems to say, with a prostitute's innocence,
"Come on"
Sanjay
Labels: poetry