by June Nandy

It was not at the restaurant doors only
that Gandhi stood as a durwan. He wriggled
in mom’s purse too; she said, he is an austere
cross to the Dracula. I thought—freedom
meant: right to choose.

Friends say vampires are seductive,
when they peer through the sky-boards
from gilt-edged bath-tub or flaunt the
bond with dry martini. They say—love
marks give status to anonymous.

Now I understand, why stories
of success makes me anemic.

June Nandy's recent works have appeared in Qarrtsiluni, Aphelion Webzine, Hudson View, Up The Staircase Quarterly, and elsewhere. She has an award winning poem in the open poetry contest, 2009 with Prakriti Foundation, Chennai. Her novel, 'Ideospheres of Pain' has been released recently in India which advocates for an ideology-free world. She has been nominated for the best of the Net Anthology 2010 and best of Dzanc Books Web Anthology 2011. She has received her post-graduation in English Literature and is a professional translator for about a decade now. Her poetry and other details can be accessed at: http://throughmystripedshirt.blogspot.com. She lives with her family in Calcutta.