There used to be a time when bodies
did the talking. An eyebrow raised
in queries above noises, a finger
rubbing peace to the small of one's back,
lips pressed to grief galore,
an embrace that melts all doubts.
The wordless worlds we pass through
in silent ritualistic heavings leave us
cold. We refuse to see or listen
to the needs of mindbodysoul flailing
helpless limbs in the void. Time to
stop blaming the things we built
and think of the hands that lost
the magic. Or, let us just lie
facing each other like fish out of water
shaking life out in loveless sighs.
BORED GUARDIANS
Angels shed their feathers Icarusquely. Burnt wax
drip down and fall on my face. Dream waves melt in sun,
wet the flakes that refuse to settle down. The smallest,
cutest, moth-eaten among my angels sits by my bed,
its eyes close to my lips. It counts my failed attempts
at a sensible smile in deep sleep. Chided by mother,
it stops acting stupid, learns to jump high and float
in the air for a few seconds before the novice’s
inevitable fall. They have all grown so fat, sitting idly
on my table, atop cupboards, lying down next to me.
Waiting, waiting for me to open my eyes, get up,
to look at what is left of life. Waiting, scratching hopes.
REVEALED
You set fire to my robes
and I run for cover,
your eyes burn my flesh
in search of a
selfless soul inside
The scars revealed
are scary to
my eyes, I grope
in the dark and weep
for the souls
I killed
It scares me more
as you say you love the me
you saw undressed,
kiss my wounds to start
anew our suffering
