Momina
Mo-mee-na
Her fate sealed by her name
of three syllables
Always pleading
Grew to be forty in twenty
Has no child to sing to
With her paan stained breath
"He can’t you see"..says she
"thank god" say I
"you can’t see" says she
as I wonder aloud
why she would ever want
a part of him.
and him with his fermented breath
has given her last night
a different souvenir
blue map shaped bruise across her chin
and yet for him
she extends her arm out to me
A 500 rupees
De-do-na
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