Bags of rain collected against blue
The wind nudged them and they busted
Blue to gray
Dry to wet
Impurity and scented Earth wafted through the streets
A canopy of gray above her red umbrella
Puddles of mud beneath her feet
Virgin to sold
Pure to bruised
Fear and scented incense compiled on her face
Gray sheets on her mattress
A customer above her small frame
Unwilling to forced
Poor to robbed
Candlelight and a few rupees are all that remain
Gray beads on her saree
Scatter across the floor as he hits her again
Human to animal
Free to slave
Torn fabric and shame clothe her
Gray bruises on her body
As she lies on gray sheets and clutches the gray beads
The men are gone
The rupees taken
The candlelight--smallest of light--diminished
She closes her eyes
And waits for gray to turn to blue
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