Sit in a monument ,smile with a devotion
Or stand as monument and utter nothing
At a monumental grief, while you smiled
At everywoman’s grief ,your cheek’s roses
Turned to gulkhand in your man’s mouth,
Opening and closing like the easiest cave
Between your bigsized banana trunk legs.
You will be the monument he will spit in.
(Gul khand is a Persian word for the sweet preserve of rose petals, commonly used in betel leaf (called pan) chewed in most parts of India. Patience sitting on a monument is an echo from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.)