Judy dyed her hair blue,
But it turned out a mottled green.
Bottle fly green—she is rotting.
They named her Judith; biblical.
I imagined her, scimitar
Brandishing, severed head in tow.
I stumble across Bethulia,
My saviour does not respond.
Blasphemous, I worship her hands,
The ones that cut muscle, sinew,
Tendon— could they undo me too?
Quiet Judy, with shaking hands.
Her glassy eyes and peeling lip.
Silent Judy, back of the class,
Her nervous hands, picking at skin.
Only she could deliver me.
Judy with the dyed blue hair.
I would become Holofernes,
For Judith to sever my skin.
Sara Javed Rathore is an author from Lahore, Pakistan. She won the Daud Kamal Award in 2018, and the Scranton Grant in 2024. She has written extensively for The Friday Times on art and culture, and runs a Substack newsletter. She writes plays and does radio, as well as research and public speaking. She is studying Literature at Kinnaird College for Women University. Recently, she moderated a panel on theatre at Lahore Literary Festival (2025).