by Partha Sarkar
How is the knife ?
Is it sharp ?
But I do not understand
Why you blame this divine plough.
It is pious.
It paints the face of dawn
With the blood of a meaningless heart.
And so far as knowledge goes,
It commits no crime
Unless you yourself tear the cord of blood.
How is the knife ?
I do not answer.
But I myself knife the gangrene
Of the expired womb.