My sari is covered in fine grains of dirt
My husband yells..
'Give me a son! I need at least one!'
Daughter after daughter leading to my slaughter
the sonogram reads, it's another she.
I gaze at the woman I met the day I married her
With her dowry of a single lamb,
and enough coins to fill the palm of my hand
My anger took hold with what the doctor told
With useless daughters left and right,
She couldn't put up a fight
Forced abortion, then distortion.
I stare into the murky water,
My fingers grazing my gark bindi
Kerosen is still in the air
the horrid smell of burning hair
Pavada ripped I get a grip and rock with my sisters
the babies fall asleep
Soon I'll be wed to a man never met
With the dowry of one old sheep,
and coins only one palm deep.