Kali Puja

the heat from the puga is more
than the heat from outdoors
more than the hearts split open by Kali Mother
            Her red
         tongue juts
         out of her
            in utter

Eyes wide and round,
black pupils on white moons—
gold chained Moma decked in flowers
no tomorrow, no past, flux eternal
destruction of the forces of darkness…
and joy

the hours
go by
the changing
grows weaker
as we trudge up to the pyre,
tip into the pit,
take the flames to our skin,
the unnamed named
and watch the fire (of knowing)
run through our root
like a warrior