Framed Mesh

The rasp of sand on sieve, flipping urgency in rice grains on heat, an entourage to the jangle of her dozen green translucent dreams sold to her at the village fair wafting of love through hordes in sherwanis and seheras alike matched with mannequin reds conceding to a horoscoped fate indistinguishable like the men in her new home, who take turns to unveil her at nights distributed even by the hypostyles of power and precedence, polyandrous as Pandavas fading in the daylight that ripens guavas, pickles, needlework in the barefoot corridors while the granular language of being falls through her framed mesh —the penury of silence.