Bruised, but not Broken (poems) – 20. The Filthy
Bruised, but not Broken (poems) -Challapalli Swarooparani 20. The Filthy My mother is an ogre She neither bathed me fondly Nor cajolingly fed me Neither stitched me a silk skirt Nor braided flowers in my hair. My mother Sun-burned, soot-faced With hands Eroded in the cleaning. When other mothers stealthily Gave their children pocket-money, For […]
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