SHAPELESS SACK OF RED
If she stood still long enough
I could count all her bones
From the cheeks a Leonardo
could have lovingly chiselled
to the
delicate line of jaw
meeting in a razor-sharp chin
to the
strutting clavicles
creating hollows
for her grief to hide
to the
sharply etched ribs
a child could practice
his numbers on
to the
spindly arms that never knew
a comforting layer of fat
to the
fragile twigs passing for fingers
radiating from a slender wrist
to the
protruding hips
on whose jutting-out edges
you could hang a towel to dry
to the
stick-insect legs that failed
to carry her to safety
I could have counted them all
if he hadn’t smashed each one
All it took him was a fist
All I saw
was a shapeless sack of red
By Uma Venkatraman
Biography:
Born in India, and now living in Singapore, Uma Venkatraman is a journalist with a passion for poetry. Her poems have been published in anthologies such as Good Morning Justice, Poetic Trenches, Along The Shore, and online in the Pink Panther Magazine and the Plath Poetry Project’s December retrospective.