crouched in her balcony
she gazes at the street
agal vilakkus*
line compound walls,
illuminate kolams and staircases
in flickering geometries
of ritual auspiciousness
flames fickle
destined to
die a slow death
as oil surrenders to wick
or a quick one
from a wayward
Marina gust
no flame quite so steady,
she realizes,
as her everyday
kaarthigai deepam**
inscrutable glow of
cigarette butt
as he unflailingly assails
her neck, breasts, thighs
burning her with a precision
astonishing for someone
so drunk
*Earthen oil lamps
** see here
***Image source: Wikimedia
