Taj Mahal-adori

I’ve contacted the experts
and they can confirm:
even my dreams

are symmetrical
even when they slide around and purr.

So release in me
a vector of your most encrypted wants—inflatable,

detachable, suspended by wires and drool—and I’ll make your perversions beautiful,
a calligraphic frieze

of glowing zigzags and roving tattoos.

We’ll go global with your oozing brands, flowering up
neon-cities in your fits of kitsch.

Having scoured the cosmos

for your one and only body, I’ll be your avatar
against extinction,

your best-friend-forever-
cum-exotic-stranger, your undiminished
exhibitionist.

Tell me:
What bizarre-o organ would you like to suck?

I’m nostalgic for sensation, circa 1631:
Enter this glittering apparatus. It’s all the rage.

Who wouldn’t say you were lovable once?

Vidhu Aggarwal

Born in Ranchi, India, Vidhu Aggarwal (vidhu-aggarwal.squarespace.com) grew up in the Southern U.S., primarily in Louisiana and Texas. Her multi-media works in video, poetry, and scholarship are oriented around Bollywood spectacle, Mardi Gras, and science fiction. Her poems have appeared in Juked, [PANK], Sugar House Review, INK BRICK, and Norton’s Language for a New Century: Contemporary Poetry from the Middle East, Asia, and Beyond, among others. A Kundiman fellow, she is the founding editor of SPECS, a multi-media journal with issues on “Homuncular Flexibility,” “Toys,” and “Faux Histories.” She has worked with John Sims Projects on “The 13 Flag Funerals” in Florida, and with artist Bishakh Som on “Lady Humpadori,” a poetry/comic book collaboration. Her latest work, Avatara, concerns the romance between a temporary Y2K tech worker and a unicorn A.I. She teaches postcolonial and cultural studies, and poetry and poetics at Rollins College in Winter Park, Florida.

Note: "In this poem, a monstrous entity Hump occupies the famous tourist attraction The Taj Mahal. I’ve been to the Taj three times with family and friends, partly because visitors feel that they haven’t experienced India without viewing the Taj and taking the requisite picture in front of this monument to “eternal love.” But the story behind construction is quite violent. Emperor Shah Jahan was said to have chopped the hands off all the builders and artisans after the construction of the Taj, so that this extravagant tomb for his dead wife could never be replicated! And yet the building has been replicated over and over—in photos, knick-knacks, and stickers to name a few. We had a lit-up miniature marble Taj replica when I was growing up. In the poem, the Taj speaks as a grotesque but seductive global brand or commodity."