Decimals appear on her dark skin.
Sound gropes her ears, colours thin.
Blacker she turns the blackest flower –
Between her folds suns cower.
The sky tonight reduced to a goddess!
Decimals are jewels that hook her senses –
piercings galore, the bride’s unsteady –
Hope’s an oar; the buyers are ready.
As bugles onto her body crawl –
sky becomes a frozen waterfall.
It bounces perfunctorily –
abandoned in a dark corner,
forgotten by the very hand
that once owned it.
My breath shrinks,
loses its music.
I am only a little limit now –
wanting lesser and lesser
of the great
that your hand had meant –
needing it
more than ever.
Frames have grown fangs
And pictures curl to warp faces.
Truth leaks, an edge to these hands –
Hours speak to the stasis.
Every day I look at your death,
Redo the memories, an oasis.
The eternities were momentary.
Intuition would always wake up
and spill distances between them.
Love, when it seemed to run out,
would be replenished by her
cutting a vein or two.
Tears, when they would
hint at colourlessness,
would be dried,
prevented from achieving an orgasm.
Distances –
how pronounced they would be
within entanglements;
how visible in the eyes
when they looked at each other.
She dropped kisses on his eyes –
snow that befell a roof one winter,
only to melt as he woke up
to the suns of their times, together...
And away.
The eternities were but momentary.
I have nothing to complain –
the illusion contains me dignified,
keeps me occupied.
Our love’s without a stain!
All the blood out of sight,
the illusion has me dignified.
Words are all that remain –
what of the unspoken tide?
Thinking keeps me occupied.
Mornings never bring rain.
Now that you have died,
the illusion has me dignified.
Yellow, with a core yellower –
the slice looked a petal on his palm.
Perfect manners, he consumed
with a spoon –
a fruit fresh from the farm.
Translucence, the residue,
tossed away in a bin –
decaying as he gets ready
for new appetite.
High tide,
your cheek against
the moonlight –
does it matter
that I am not the spire
you fly towards?
A grain of sand,
I cannot capture your
mighty moon-shadow.
Your laugh
is for the eyes –
you flutter, because light.
I crawl to the shore
as you soar to the white
that cannot be had.
