Inside the puddingland

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MySpace Graphics Your kiss spins like a dice in the night air and finds a shelter in the naked geometry of my face. - For R

Thursday, October 1, 2009

An evening in mercury

- For B

(A sequel to 'Parting at Park Street')


you’re standing by the window;

you hear
the soft breath of the city
entangled in winter mist

inhale the silence
inside the heart of the swollen river,

and feel the pulse
of the broken sky
throb with flickering thoughts

as the city slides
on fragments
between a poem
and sleep


what are the women doing
in the rain?

draped in thunder
and songs,

as my fingers
lick the silence,
exploring the ruins
of her sari

why does the bed
smell of lost lovers?


nights of prayers
and sweat,

as we exchanged glances
in the taxi on the VIP

talking in fits and starts
or polite whispers

and you kept complaining
that it was getting late
but the traffic kept us waiting

your thoughts in a dream
and the rim of your skirt
on my naked toes,

I savoured every second
of the uneasy silence


rain girl,
it’s been nine winters

since I left you standing alone
at the crossroads
in Park Street

and I have lost your touch
inside the catacombs
of this fragile city

I always expected
one last letter,
but I never really bothered
to look for it


dance of the moon
in the embrace of the river,

the bridge swings
in tension with secrets

the night once again
talks of uncertainties

as lonely streets
drunk with mercury lamps
recede in the mirror

and melt
in the voyeur of smoke

I succumb
to the meaning
of touch


staring through the blinds,
you strain to detect
the last traces of sound

those sad evanescent whispers
from sleepy apartments
as stars sulk on the horizon

one by one
you count the lights,
as they go out

inside the ebony spaces
of this dead city

and you know
it’s your turn now