Sacrifice by Anna Citrino

The fortress she lived in had many rooms where women

moved behind screens of carved stone, veils

to peer through, walls where no words

reached--the whole of her life lived inside walls. A queen

of privilege, but she knew about locked doors,

what it was like to stand behind 

a thick barrier. The raja returned from battle, a victor no more.

10,000 lives lost, and she shut the palace door—

the red shape of women’s hands who 

took their lives when their husbands died in battle 

pushing on her mind as they pressed into 

the wall at the palace gate. 

Let him stand outside the fortress door in the feeble air 

singed with widows’ sacrifice and the crow’s 

black croak. Let him lean his body 

against the fortress wall, sun’s flame sweeping down

the long desert expanse, dust smothering

his feet. Let his hand that held the ax, 

that let go the life of so many, press with the women’s 

held up at the stony door. Let him wait, 

flies buzzing overhead.

Anna Citrino grew up in California and taught abroad for twenty-six years at international schools in the countries of Turkey, Kuwait, Singapore, Saudi Arabia, India, and the UK. Her current home is the hills of Soquel, California. A graduate of the Bread Loaf School of English in Vermont, Ms. Citrino's work has appeared in various literary journals including, Canary, Paterson Literary Review, and The Evening Street Review, among other publications. She is the author of two chapbooks, Saudade and To Find a River. Her book, A Space Between, is forthcoming in December, 2019. Read more of Anna's writing at annacitrino.com.