PoetryI stand between you and the desert
the life has thrown at me,
between the surface of wavy water and dry sand;
between the clear sky and howling wind.
The face I have of you in my mind
is scattered on the floor, lips and eyes
here and there. I would shape it
after I will be born. Hunger shoves me out and
I get killed by a shadow of a dark, dodgy face.
Then I dance, my limbs torn and tattered.
After it is over, I rise from my ashes.
I put your lips back to your face
and paint red, I chisel your eyes to a shape,
paint the eyebrows dark, the strands of
hair pitch dark. I see your lips move, your
cheeks blush, brow curved in thought,
motion of a swirling water is up.
With my lips clung to your breasts, I slake my
thirst with the water in you.
Poetry by Mukul Dahal
Read 705 times
Written on 2009-05-09 at 09:27
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)