One more to the already large Pantheonwouldn’t do any harmPush her into the raging pyreof her imbecile husbandWhen it comes to godsthe more they arethe merrier for usLet the heavenward tongues of fireraise her to the celestial abodeClang the cymbals, beat the drums andchant in chorus the Great Nametill the voices go hoarseLest the desolate screams of the would-be-godreach heretic earsA gentle nudge into the fire,or, if need be,a firm whack in the rib cagewould only help speed upthe glorious journey to godhoodTill yesterday she was just a daughter,a sister, a other, a negihbourYoung and pretty she wassetting several hearts on fireThe flagrant pyre isbut a centaur with its wings aflutter,raring to transport herto the company of godsPious as we are,we could do with one more god,set the fresh widow aflame.
by S. Ganapathi
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