A Suitable Girl


For when you think I’m too old
To love and to have and to hold
Your Dorian laughs in his frame
As cracks appear across his face

For when you tell me I should cook
And not be reading so many books
Your kitchen sink mocks you
When everyday your dinner gets brutally bruised

For when you chide me for being too loud
And ask me to hold my tongue in a crowd
You know not how your friends oblige
By laughing when you really make them cry

For when you wonder if I’d be a good trophy
Me, with my innate lack of propriety
Your workplace thanks heavens
When you step away from matters of importance

For when you check if I’m “suitable”
If I’m a good enough “marriage material”
Alas! You are not able to see
You are not good enough for me!



Winds of the heavenly gods,

Come to Thee, My Sire

To Thee, they make known the world

Through Thee, they come to earth

This unyielding heart

Doeth skip a mortal beat

When Thy feet bless the ground

Or Thy breath doeth oblige the air

The world may claim me mad

But Thy mind will save mine

It will raise me from my death

For my death is equally Thine

Mirrors, don’t lie, Oh sire!

And mine doeth tell the truth

Thou, my reflection, my sire

Art my only borne fruit