Bagalāmukhī

Kanya Kanchana

I remember you, she says,  
angling her rictus. You
with so many things to say
— I remember you.

Have you
heard the rumours?
All it takes is a single
rip
to peel you to your root.

Shears
one kyphotic talon,
the Yellow One,
crushes
our flesh into stasis.

Flap, flounder, froth,
or freeze — I will
flay you
in anosognosic freefall.
I have other things
in mind for you, so.

Sheathe your tongue
ह्ल्रींhlrīṃ for
this is not the end.

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