SHE : A Fragment

i.

rocking chair:
sun through the clouds in
verandah
after days of rain
and nostalgic nights

she hands me
a lukewarm tea of
ginger, clove
and honey to make
love and stay alive

ii.

shadows fly from my fingers
with the moving wrist—
the hand disappears

I can’t touch her heart
under the tan skin:
they waver behind the glass

hissing through clenched teeth
as I sip my drink
she gives me a frozen smile

iii.

who can see
except myself
the ghetto within?

I laugh away
when she senses it
in the façade
of the forgotten
I reinvent
searching miracles
in her annoyance


iv.

she props the stooping lemons
with stake but avoids
bending close to me:

I die to draw the blossom
in my twining arms
but she likes the other scent


v.

she’s graceful
on bended knees
supplicant
head bent, in peace

victim of whip
can’t pull back
past happiness
love’s sharp tongue

he’s no lug
can’t see the gems
in rain drops
her aura shines

vi.

I feel her hyaline influx
in my deep love leaps
from the soul with subtle glows
her breath runs through my veins:
this vassal of the flesh blushes
as I drink the infinite in her


vii.

don’t question the lips
that wilt the tongue
licking wetness in the mouth


the mystery of delight
prophecy of the birth
by salty swallowing

make new parables
with face mask surviving
one more gospel


viii.
To see you naked
is to recall the earth
says Garcia Lorca

it’s no sin to love
strip naked in bed, kitchen
or prayer room

the bodies don’t shine
all the time nor passion
wildly overflows

but when we have time
we must remember parts
arouse dead flesh

rub raw with desire
peeling wet layers through light
sound, sense and taste

play the seasons:
the thirst is ever new
and blissful too

to recreate
the body, a temple
and a prayer

--R K Singh