i am your woman in
ruby red silk sari with
gold thread-
i bear the mark of a
married woman high
on my forehead

for you i cook aromatic
spiced lamb-tender as
the light over morning
calcutta
yellow rice soft as a
painter's yellow ochre
on drying pallate

for hours i have watched
over slow rising flat bread
each  ****** of the heel
of my hand forming warm
dough into flat ovals

i bathe in the essence of
warm sandalwood and
the fruit smoke of incense

tonight i give to you the
secrets of womanflesh and
take you to me david
under white gauzy canopy
as the garden peacock
prims it's silken feathers
under the shadow of the
sundial-

tonight i am your temple
and the gods smile softly
with pleasure.            
                       ana christy

You might say I spend too much time on public transportation
Licking my lips and waiting for that dull reminder
Each stop is sticky on my fingers
A set of memories and ache I wish I could wipe off
Echoes of my childhood have me twirling
questions between my fingertips
Wondering why I can't remember
and why the ones that stick hurt so much

A man's eyes bounce off mine in the back row
Needling in that slick way that they do
Questioning me, really
What is your worth here?
Prove to me your flesh and blood
Lest I cast you out
Sharp bones in fist

My mouth is full of the lush green grass
Joints crackling and choking- just a little bit

How do I taste?

The feeling of your palms
jaded by the same stone I cut my teeth upon
When did you start to mean so much to me?

I'm tasting all your revelations
Tonguing your reasoning and experience
The way you say my name resting on my soft pallate

And I find myself unyieldingly grateful
for the way the ground moved
underneath our seats.

There's a moment
Just before waking
When silver and orange glows
Mix on an unearthly pallate
When hearts are still in dreams
And early birds play
Background music.
In this moment you reach for me
Before your eyes
Can even check I'm there
And I know in that moment
I was in your dream
That moment is bliss