Self-Portrait as Blanka

Lavanya Arora

Given a chance, wouldn’t you roll          yourselves
into a ball? Hurl your body            in any direction
with the sheer force of your chlorophyllated
animalism? Your hair sharp            with electricity
you gnawed at                     during a plane crash
that should’ve killed you on the spot?           Desire
to stop being human. A feral           [           ], shy
of being chimera as no mad scientist            ever
found you and lived to tell the tale.       Professor X
might have tried to recruit you          as a minor
character, groom you        in the image of the blue
genius beast, if your realities ever crossed paths.
That is, if you weren’t already too far gone
like Juggernaut. Brothers can be        moulded
to hate each other by their father, step or otherwise.
I used to crouch, run electricity through my body too,
so, no one could reach the purple parts
of my visibly green skin. Ask anyone who tried
to love me before I turned twenty-five.   Growl
during fist fights at school, so, my spotless face
would contort into a beehive in the wilderness.
Endangered by tree felling. Honey extracted,
sold to unsuspecting passersby on the roadside
by hands that were supposed to protect us.