I sell my body to free myself, she says
somnolent Devadasi girl with eyes
like an ox, her red-and-yellow sari
is made from lac and safflower. She was
sold off the farm at twelve to men who
slid open her quarters like a bread cabinet
who do not look god in the face because
she is Maadiga, that which cannot be seen
so glorious is her immanence, like
each star was a torch passed on to her
who looks up at the night for warmth
from trillions of long ago lights. Suffer
O ox-eyed Yellamma, while men pay
to grind your fine grain into sand.
Whoever cannot believe can swear to god
for a covenant that justifies your ways
to the lustful race of man buying his own.
R. Charboneau
