Durga who rides on the tiger inside her

Now takes the place of that heavy-breasted mother

Made for pregnancy alone. For Durga’s no Sheila-Na-Gig.

You don’t get into her easily. An ace at Sanam Takraw,

Her thighs will break an assassin’s neck like a match-stick.

Put together from the parts of warriors, is she all violent fathers

In a daughter’s clothing? One consumed by loathing

x

For her sex’s “frailty”? Durga dealt with the gaur goon

Who did a deal with Brahma. Being denied eternal life

His yesmanship for the god gained him the right to be slain

Only by a woman – which he reckoned guaranteed

An unextinguished career, given the gaur he chose to appear.

Then Durga took his fancy, and she told him she would only mate

With a chap who could beat her in combat. Not with a sap.

x

That sounded good to this pumped-up buffalo anti-god.

Bring it on, he bawled, erection already affecting his cock.

Riding on her tiger she engaged with him, this minotaur

Who changed into a lion Durga despatched with a rock

As he became an elephant whose trunk she tied in a knot,

And when he was out of shapes into which to shift she slew him,

Tore off his head with her teeth, disconcerting all who knew him.

*

From Book 1 of The Runiad