Reply To An Invitation To Bed Poem by lalitha iyer

Oh my Lord,
your mansions are full
silky robes and
silvery touches
slim damsels
with slipping hips
and dancing breasts
and brooding thighs
your bed is always flowered
with all these angels
with tender hands
and touching hearts
their snow white bridges
and coal blacked hairs
their slyful looks
and tempting strides
their whispering hooks
that clings to your manes
oh no, I am a leper
and a roadside sweeper
my hands are dirty
and my dresses torn
thoughts are barren
and thighs painfully drawn
I am a hungry woman
and my lips are thirsty
but me born in poverty
and misery is my life
my blood is in agony
and I care for no fancies
I am harsh and ruff
and I sleep in sheds
shredded with stenches
I am all filthy
my sweat is smelling unhealthy
I smell from street ends
the scent of carbages and mounds
puss oozes from my scars
blood my from thoughts
my eyes are full of blinds
I have a vision blurted
I have a body cursed
and arched a cruise missile
I know no polite words
but only the language of wores
who quarrel for lesser paid wages

Now, how could you behold
Me and mine
when your world is lovely littered
with woman of fantastic wombs
and tattoed tombs.........