Ganghes
For Dan Simmons. Thanks for ‘Songs of Kali’)
One dead body of a child,
hung from a bridge
under construction:
the oldest of gifts
to an uncaring God.
Bodies floating by;
open sewers,
spilling out into the river,
where the pilgrims bathe
and pray.
Along the shores
the Babel spears,
with wheels on top:
decaying bodies
feed the vultures.
Ganghes,
mother of all clogged-up veins;
sluggish cancer snake.
Holy and monstrous:
nightmare’s wake.
Mother of all rotten,
wasted flesh,
where dreams and prayer
come to die -
I come to thee.
Ganghes,
Kali’s poison thighs
spread wide and leak
hot piss
and menstrual fluids.
Mother Kali,
lying on your rusty bed of mud,
hot and fever-fed I dream of corpses,
sex and blood -
my dreams are you.