A Paralyzed Poem After Anupama Pilbrow Poem by Ravi Kopra

Squeezing minced holy cow meat in the
palms of her hands, she makes
meatballs. Under her red polished
long nails the sticky meat sticks
around with dirt gathered under the
nails. She mixes it all in the next
round of balls mixed with garam-masala
packaged in transparent small plastic
bags manufactured in Coimbatore, India
and exported to Melbourne, Australia
by Patel Brothers of Surat, Gujarat.
She smells the meatballs mixed with
aphrodisiac masala and puts them in the
boiling hot water of a pot made of Aluminium
but does not let go them. Instead, she dips
her hand full of balls into the boiling
water and cooks her hand with the balls.
She then eats the balls and her hand
Becoming one with the balls. So delicious!
Thus paralysed in the forearm without a hand
she enjoys her poem paralyzed in all forms.

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PARALYSIS POEM

Meat paste I am squeezing
around in my hands I am
squeezing it like dough it is
under my fingernails and thick
like dry dough. I am making
meatballs and unmaking them
into paste again I am smelling
the meat and tasting it now
and again I am boiling the balls
one by one in a big
pot of boiling water. My hands
are sticky with meat and I push
them together and massage the
meat into the skin and I am stroking
the meat and I dip my hands into
the big pot of hot water
and cook the meat into my skin so
I can peel it off in flakes and eat
it flavoured like I am.