Untouched

They are blackened. Barefoot. Thin as reeds. Your untouchables. —You are not Hindu. You know nothing. I see them clean your privies, quarry rocks, balance the burning upper-caste corpse on the bier with long bamboo poles. —You imagine seeing. You are not Hindu. You see nothing. Near the burning ghat, the shrunken untouchable woman folded …

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