Poetry 2012 Third Prize, Ravisha Mall

hiding

behind

the big green electricity box

the eyes turn away
but the dirt from your gaze
sticks to my privates
like a leech.

standing at the bus stop
clad from head to toe
I feel a piercing pain
in my chest…
your point(s) of concentration
will,
perhaps,
one day
bore holes
next to my nipples.

moving constantly,
never still,
I fidget to hide myself
from your lecherous glare..
only..
I HATE fidgeting.

you,
my man,
are the reason
why my father
never let me play
with the neighborhood boys…
sired by you
they would too one day
turn into shameless men,
ready to rip apart
with their lustful eyes,
a girl standing at the bus stop,
sorry for being alive.

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