Nakusa Poem by Rachel Kovacs

She stands there,
silently,
as the khols
and taals
begin
to play.
If money had afforded,
they would have found the
wrong chromosome.
Pat silk
Sitipati
Bangles
ornate
heads
fingers
feet
and she
begins
to sway.
Maatsya,
the fish,
life begins.
famished cries
unheeded,
A crumpled woman,
abandoned child.
Now she is the tortois
lifting herself
from the milky sap
of oleander,
castor oil.
Bending,
fingers spread,
She gazes,
smiling,
sorrowful.
fearful.
Varaha-
the boar.
She pulls
herself up
fingers dancing,
feet stamping.
Narasimha
She overcomes.
She stands.
She spins.
Dowry.
Her worth measured
and found
insufficient.
Threats.
Shame.
A marriage worth
a decade of work.
She squats,
Steps.
Vaman,
The dwarf.
Her eyebrows lower.
Her lips pout.
Gazing off into
some far distance,
she runs,
stops.
Turns.
Returns.
She lifts her axe.
Parashuram
She sweeps her arms.
She holds her head high.
Her eyes twinkle
and she is free.
Shaking her finger,
she sits
and takes up
her baby in her arms.
Rama.
She strikes the floor
right to left
bending
stretching
Head.
Neck.
upraised foot.
A boy.
Joy.
Honor.
Pride.
She joins
her hands
and slides them
down
before
her eyes.
Before
her heart.
Lifting her finger
she philosophies,
teaches,
trains.
She lifts
her child.
He walks.
He runs.
She stirs.
She waits.
Her eyes
shift
from left to right.
Looking up,
she lifts
her arms
open
inviting
above her head.
She rolls
her neck
and cradles
her womb.
A needle stick.
A girl.
Nakusa.
She falls to the ground
and she
cries.