whilst every brown boy and his mother leaf through the beauty
of local girls,
I sit rudely in the scorching sun daring him to turn me darker
they’re checking the boxes that define perfection—
milky skin against ebony locks, submissive eyes.
but they lump me separately—
too much fire for a family so obviously dry.
with my ideas for grand women, embracing all colours & sexes
with my outline for a fair marriage,
& a mouth full of truth,
I am not the fabric of pretty Indian brides.
you are looking for a woman to replicate your mother,
feed you sweetmeats and stroke your ego,
a woman who will not ask why you smell like deceit,
or will never expect you to commit to equality.
hear me small brown man,
I do not care if you do not fit me as the queen of your home,
my father made me the goddess of his,
and you may call me Kali.
Ria Naidoo has been writing short stories and poems since her days in primary school. She enjoys poetry based on real-life events or observations of life around her. She hopes to expand her writing into an artistic expression of navigating a modern life with its unique experiences.