Sex workers in Mumbai's Kamathipura district

Creaking bridge with an overhanging death
Within this rivers frosty sweat
A picturesque flights of fanciful fish
go nowhere because the stones are adrift

Hanging gardens or lonely spires
Chaste garments or naked souls
Buried underneath the swampy disgust
Mortal limbs searching for the moon

The bazaar is alarmed with the poisons of rupees
Each human touch is memories born out of soiled sheets
Corners sell flowers of jasmine and magnolias
But coughs and sputter of unhealthy women
Beyond the earths mist

Naked land in the sky
No nobility here that hide
Flesh is windows with out curtain
And doors are jute skinned
Opening to hell

Woman sell their cosmetics
Painted on worn skins
That refresh the noisy gargles of daily sweat
Each moan is snuffed like a fish