Woven Sugar- a child peering into a ceramic pot on a heated stove-
Breaking out of (modern code) ethical chastity into self. Maneuvering womanhood.
We’re striking up constructs and words like paper and match, we used rocks earlier.
Now we’ve got instantaneous blowtorches, clickity click, the iridescence of our lack of patience foams at the orange pip which draws every wispy, whimsical flame.
Women are red tipped and inherently wood,
if every nipple could turn brown and indian within the length of each airy blaze,
breasts in our childish palms like each elongated index holds the sunny beige stick, permitting minute pebbly fascinations drawn from the silky rebellion that makes refutable the ethicality of religion.
Our words are as gooey and minute in their purpose as slime.
and yellowish green giggly thrills in flatulence and plastic nylon bags,
as do the plasticky rubbery residues from every cardboard contained sparkler,
the flatulence you smell on a discarded charred glittery metal tail,
that also engulf our pubic confessions within the rugged smelling terrains of music.
Our words and constructs are as driven in fascination as side-street side-walk gunny bag carbon and plastic miracles,
helium cartoon animals and rubbery residues at the sticky ends of orange film glittery stickers and crinkly butter paper revolving windmills held by ice-cream sticks.
Sugar underneath the laid-out palms of the stove’s heat
glazes in turmoil and the sweaty with a doe eyed thrill from a fragility to touch that is the game of tag and chase stumbling into skinny translucent strands of blonde hair,
silvery strings even-under the prodding of the silicon spatula’s sweaty digits
and swirling, jutting stiff yet emotive malleability of its red kool aid tongue.
and the ceramic inner walls of the pot, that stain in maturity of heat and length into a dull char.
If wonder can be found and popped into a buttery smog of vision
in the parallels of a reflective marble tabletop scrubbed with a soapy disdain,
then so can the various breasts of a flame vary like the matchsticks and the women who are elongated further than their breasts and the factuality of their breasts.
Talk to me on twitter : Ramya Ethiraj (@ethiraj_ramya) / X (twitter.com)
