ripped in one quick movement. The moment hung like a trapeze swinger in the air. Like a circus— her mouth unhinged like the Black Dahlia. It would not close. Her teeth a broken zipper, scream curdling her own blood pouring in a lake by the burning stove. But then she was a woman and stood among the women. If you will.
xix. You take a red thread. You wrap it through the braid. The tension hurts
at first but you get used to it. We landed in Dehli, sweat ourselves half dry on rooftops, in western clubs, commonwealth celebrity, rickshaw near-death accidents. Train to Maharastra farm. Eat Gandhi, Bollywood. In the orange tree forest. Jeep to Sevagram, dream Gandhi, pray the pipal tree, then vacation up north in Uttrachan. Drink the pure Himalayan river till my lungs are gonna burst. Fly to Ahmedabad, Gujari market bulldozers knocking gates, slum dwelling dance. Bust down Golden Corridor, effluent channel factory smog ride to Netrang. Old Muslim castle fighting and fasting in the rain. Sparkling roof, Robert Wade economic colonization of the developing world. Sugar factory murder, “they really live in tents!” Reservoirs and dams flooding the unfortunate like magnified fire on ants. Namada travel concrete world is building. Waghai shaman