Lastly Kasturiya why d’you wear the same sari 
You have silks from the King    saris worth their 
weight in gold 
 

He’s been dead    why not drop your mourning? 
Put on a set of bangles    you’re not old 
 

Listen:    even if he married your cousin Laleh 
everyone knew you were his trendsetter    queen 
runway-reception    seen-and-heard 

*                               *                               * 

You noticed the clothes 
I said 
 

When I wore the bordered Benarasi silks drape- 
displayed the rich pallu you wives hovered hungry 
birds at the bulbul tree I-nothing an observer 
of shadow mute-smiling for the press corps world 
 

My expensive saris brought sweet praise too thick 
so I give my saris away I gave myself to the king 
thought finery chic spoke-nothing of myself-sold 
 

And if a sari tore on a limousine door I felt 
wounded could never repay him the cost of one 
sari would not repay the cost of keeping me did 
not say one word 
 

I give my saris to marketwomen eyes-as-kohl 
off they go    Won’t make their children’s clothes 
from the clothes of shadows    I-Kasturiya 
What I might-have-been let their girls. . . . 
Marketwomen press my hand and    Go on 
dressed in glass instead of gold 
wearing cotton not silk 
striding under hard-sun no shadow no howdah 
and so many girls work work work 
 

                        Once I was one-of-them poor as a bird 
 

Listen to me at your wedding one drop of curry 
left stains    I saw my day’s worst decision 
removed my face for the face of pageant’s rain 
The King draped me it’s true with affection for 
his own behavior    Didn’t I choose him   Didn’t I think 
this prize? 
 

All day Laleh stayed inside I went on dressing part- 
queen I am old I stole the stage from her    rubies 
I can’t return retreated in shadows she bore his heirs 
My body gleamed-married:    redsilk     yellowgold 
 

Weathered    I am dusk    The spider on the horn of plenty 
busies herself weaving a bed glad to have work 
 

I vanish in white cotton 
If I cough or vanish who takes note? 

                        For once I hear me align these flaws 
 

Look at them -- other women hotpink citrus crush- 
of-a-mango vibrant of their time openlimbed teacher 
living in her house unpaid for by a king She owns 
her door    See it open    See it close 
Her hand henna-swirled not for her wedding 
just for the look-of-her-hands    a-world 

                        I myself must retrieve 

People I lost myself intoxicated as the King with 
his own note I stood by it bluesilk whitegold 
 

A vase to hold his scent I 

                        I will go house myself I will 

State parades hoofbeats my own heart-nothing 
nothing next to the sound of horses and the army’s 
drum-welcome 
 

Intoxicated I was with his occupation 
I Kasturiya traded obscurity with a deepening-same 
traded the link with a mother for another 
shiny brooch on my breast brooch-eyed 
shadow    yelloworganza    yellowgold 

                        I myself retrieving a place for 

I felt I was nothing with the man 
nothing without the man 
What was love?    When was my body-linked? 

                        With myself and music I lie down 

Teacherwoman if she bares herself with another 
freely like the water of a pure heart I’ve never known 
 

I’ve never known I am unknown lines drawn in my face 
I toast her her her who has loved even once! 

                        Learning at the 11th hour I 
                        receive myself in a morning 

Take care Zulekha be cheerful    I have done 
And tell allyourwomen cross my backbridge in this world 
 
 

__________ 
pallu (Hindi) -- portion of a sari draped over the shoulder and back