Sree Sen

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funambulist


of part-shadow, part-ochre,
old bones tremble in sunlight
racket of non-aligned speech

God’s sake, say it aloud. M for medicate –
there’s a million goddesses for you to curse

days are darker after flashes
of flamed-out filaments
in delicate glass bulbs,
teeth in conflict with tender flesh,
feverishly searching
for right, mechanical, polite words



trauma doesn’t change with how your eyes move across the page

for Draupadi


fuck is an angry word
whiplash state
makes you squirm
a caterpillar
slithering down
your spine
an image
of violent sex
or a vagina
peddled

a dirty word
unholy sound
then, cringe
vomit projectile
washing over
your soul
a retching
of blood semen
pawned
by five men

a release
fake moan
force-forget
a princess
commoditised
your body
a property
of tissue walls
or a poet
pawed

Sree Sen is from Mumbai, India. She relocated to Ireland in 2019 to pursue an MA in Creative Writing, University College Dublin. Heavily published as a journalist in India, Sree’s creative works have appeared in Poetry Ireland Review, bath magg, Crossways and HeadStuff.   

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