summer afternoon  
drifting into vision
gulmohar bloom

summer evening
does the breeze
dance or the tree?

summer bath
the shiver in
collected water

summer twilight
ma shops for
bigger buckets

summer dawn
music spills into
empty buckets

summer dusk
water tanker cuts
a snore into two

summer rain
*outstretched palm
barred window

once I book for Saturday
a hunger starts gathering
heavy between us,

Monday our innards
spew out smoke, Tuesday
we are in flames

we two predators in
distant forests, stripped
of pretensions,

fabric peeling warm
off our skins, tongues
scouring for pleasure,

three sea days and
nights separate us,
defeated by flesh,

we steal each other
our desires, how her
******* ache for touch,

as I knead them to dough,
blood crimson with bites,
drooping over me in ends,

baby you can simply tell
me what you want, and I
tell her, laid back, leisurely,

slow slow slow *******,
deliciously, all the way
in my mouth, she adds,

then to stop, take a breath,
start over, **** inside of the
thighs, navel, *******,

as you want it, all yours,
her wanting me to come
again again and again,

she wants me to '**** me,
lick me, **** me,' till I
come', drive me crazy,

over the edge,
Ohhhh yes yes,
and its midnight,

Tuesday turns to
Wednesday, day closer to
sin, I say, sleep well...

My fourteen years old daughter
loves her high heels
may be
more than her mother

Keeping my hands in hers
she told me once
‘’Mom
Please make yourself comfortable
with high heels
Every time you will wear heels
yours knees may buckle
your steps may shiver
But once you will make into the high heeled world
your self confidence
will never crumble”

I wish
I could remove her heels
tie her shoe less tight
and make her to walk
on that road
filled with stones of inhibitions
and slippery sands of prohibitions
because i know
that road
and only that road
leads to
top of the world
where high heels
will be no more needed

But what if
she asks
where are my shoes ?

stay
hugged
for now

beautiful
lost
bird

winter
brings
down

its
snow
white
cage

so in pure
fabled fashion,
at the battle of Haldighati (1576),

Chetak, Maharana Pratap
astride, leapt across
a gaping betwixt two cliffs

and fatally injured,
died a hero,
that

400-odd years later
the Arabian steed
stands stone-cut in Jaipur,

the Maharana
urging him on
to battle,

Chetak,
all set to go
airborne...

magic sweet words
tumult breathless,
teasing over others:
she spins her web,

spins intricately,
nattily: ages of
scalding have done
her in perhaps,

or stabs that refusal
brings, this is how
she is, will be, busy in
her impenetrability

a tightrope walker,
a smooth talker,
faker, giver, taker,
the silk is thick,

her clean heart
thus corrupted
she has trouble
sometimes, I

can see it in her
eyes, the distortion
of not knowing, for
those few dangling

moments, who she is,
face / mask
voice / silence
agreement / refusal

I may have persevered
I may have stayed
if only the years
weren't slipping away,

I wish neither of us
were built this way.