Poetry: The Ultimate Greed

To and fro, To and fro, her fingers go, round the candle's wick.
"This is fun." she thinks, "Ohh! What a trick!"

Her saree well draped,
the flow of fire, liquid.
Her delicate anklets tinkling,
the burning feet.

To and fro, To and fro, her fingers go, round the candle's wick.
"This is fun." she thinks, "Ohh! What a trick!"

The tongue of fire,
her lush dark hair;
the jasmine fragrance fading;
the overpowering reek.

To and fro, To and fro, her fingers go, round the candle's wick.
"This is fun." she thinks, "Ohh! What a trick!"

Her lovely face, melting,
her teary eyes, sparkling,
her gasps for breath, heaving,
her cries for relief.

To and fro, To and fro, her fingers go, round the candle's wick.
"This is fun." she thinks, "Ohh! What a trick!"

Women, both of them,
the killer and the victim;
one plays with the candle,
the other is the wick.

To and fro, To and fro, her fingers go, round the candle's wick.
"This is fun." she thinks, "Oh! What a trick!"

Her smile, smug, contorted
her gaze, intense hatred.
her eyes eager, hungry;
the ultimate greed.

To and fro, To and fro, her fingers go, round the candle's wick.
"This is fun." she thinks, "Ohh! What a trick!"

A voice against Dowry Deaths, on Women's day.