By Prachi Kashyap
This is not a poem
and today I won't write similes
and metaphors about gender
holding flags only till the dusk of one day,
painting protests for equality the other,
lying naked and broken at home,
with bruises on their equality seeking ice,
beaten by the same people sharing posts
on Instagram about gender equality,
about being just one and not female,
or transgender, or someone different
then the most ticked box on forms.
This is not a poem
and today I promise you I won't use
the honey laden similes and metaphors
on days we are meant to celebrate us
while everything inside it remains
just as empty as the day before,
just like the cardboard promises by elections
unlike the skin we share that holds the same life,
unlike life and death blooming on the same soil
without the clothes, the unticked boxes,
without the hunger to be in control.
Why is the desire to rule on genders not chosen or earned, so strong,
why is the equal too tough to put between multiple ones?