That Woman on the Scaffolding
She walks behind him tamed, unmiffed,
Bearing more years than she had lived,
He claimed her with a dry tattoo,
And she wore it 'coz she had to in mindless thrift.
Her cracked heels and silver anklets,
And her chiseled core paid the debts,
Bricks on her head stacked like a crown,
With the queen's deep monochromed frown that life begets.
Her tan is what models desire,
Her quick gait lights a jungle fire,
Devil says she's the owner's pride,
Yet length of veil neighbours decide for her warm pyre.
Feminists may burn undershirts,
And their slogans may soothe her hurts,
Yet, must step out for livelihood,
While the sun burns and it sure would, with life she flirts.