That woman. Walking chocolate soft in tremulous robe.
Our paths met when she was trapped in a delicate dignity,
her volatile sway melting the wet lips of her tenderness.
That woman, who touched her blushes with pain so moist,
a fiery amour extinguished in limpid pools of ebony.
It was an equal music, aroused on her peaks of pining arches,
etched in ripples of raw tones over rising swell.
Grace sailed on her valley of sighs and bonding fire,
which she threw back in lashes
of resigned ire; insistent at my back like slingshot.
I fought vicious weeds for her fragrance.
Oh Rebecca of the infinite silences,
versed in the well of meaning and mercurial measure!
Our love was a frozen scream, becoming gems inside our throats:
precious stones we honoured in dust, decried in hand.
She knew, truth and untruth always die destitute.
Ensnaring eyelids dropped over her smile,
and gathered in her quiet veil of melancholy.
Let me address your eyes blazing wide
and opening into mine at the mention of verse:
Let me tell you about strained melodies and
faces withering in the sand
ignored by the ocean, hill and human.
Let me show you forsaken corners
hich will never hold your footprints,
or know love’s probing jabs
mining the mind for meaning.
Let me tell you about wonderful places
and simple people who cradle
like a child sleeping in their arms,
the stirring of the spirit
thrown up in their veins by subterranean quakes.
Let me tell you about the first flush of monsoon
and the innocence of feeling reborn
in genuineness under resurrected waterfalls.
Let me tell you about the pleasure of pain
pounding out the secret of love with its shiny hooves.
You loved me with the anguish
of a speechless storm
thinning out as it runs over
immense Promethean seascape.
You loved me in deepest breath,
in your aroma of warm, paddy fields
where we flowed as a single drop.
Your trembling mouth whispered guilt on cracked earth:
it became the reality of my waking hours.
You awoke my love in gusts of rain and fire,
like ephemeral kisses flirting with the earth below
where love lay dead and buried, surrounded
by pits of inodorous blackness.
You had more to bestow than the vanishing
light in my eyes, when you broke
the sealed door of love, barred and forgotten;
you loved me merely for love’s sake,
you statue of ecstatic dusk.
With her hair roaring behind her, she now hurries
through winds of distraction, drawing up poise in her soul,
pauses, gentle tears separating on a chip of marble cheek;
flames of moonshine are carved in her gaze.
Play of light: She was unanticipated and foregone poetry,
of words winnowed in soft glass.