|
|
|||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Call me Kali If they see a harpy, so let it be. Change my suit into feathers, stilettos into talons. If they hear the voice of a shrew, so bridle, scold, parade me. If they fear blackness and me, devouring mother, so blood my tongue. I’ll make a garland from the heads of my victims all one hundred and eight of them. |
|
|