I was once young and beautiful
Until I turned a stone and hid my forehead
On the clumsy grass hallowed and brown
I stumbled and lost my form and face
I turned my speech into ashes and withheld my sighs.
How easy to hurt the woman who was cheated by gods?
No comments
Tomorrow. You promised.
And I almost cried
needled anxiety, prodding fingers
Those between us smiled.
Caressing memories of frayed dandelions.
We raced against ties.
Belief is hard to sustain only where there is no love
All doors of this small house have been painted red
In the belief that you would notice the change of colour
The pale curtains that have been hand washed and ironed
I put my smooth lips on the dining table mica smells of you
Birth in fire
I came out of the
ashes that were offerings.
I was born with a pledge
to atone my father’s pride,
to assuage his grief,
his sense of shame and defeat.
Yagyaseni! Yagya seni!
Let me be. She licks her scream like a morsel it
hovers in the brazen sky. My sun is caught in the rain.
Staggering halfway to the square she fixes her laughter.
Somewhere far away from the sloppy moonlight
there is a hope, red and blue.
There are nights
of all nights
when the sky turns crimson red
and the wind hollow. And on moon like this
Chiyuki’s Hiroshi wails for her sea-sucked breasts.
Hunger mounts and the neighbours’ laughter
My silence
can never beat
the rhythm of
your stare
Disenfranchised
I discard
all my virtues
Smoking veins that run wicked like
An old nanny whose time is running out
Doors have been closed and the moon has little to offer
We get inside as if there is no haste
And we time a plenty I put aside my old grandmother’s earrings
They often get caught when it is just right between us
