Sunday, February 11, 2007

Rainy Night

When dark clouds appeared

I slammed my doors

They never rained, I knew always

But I heard it tapping heavier

On my roof and on my windowpane

I thought it would fade away

As it happened always in past

But she continued drumming outside

Like a lonely street performer

Oh! It is the same old monsoon beats,

My body whispered

Still I dithered, but she went on

Breaking open my window glass

Swiftly she came inside swathing me

Her breath I heard

Its warmth I felt behind

I wet, drenched and drowned in her

Finding solace behind her scented mane

When she hugged and kissed me deep

Wordless I became, and I wept

I wept and sobbed, cuddling her deep…


I woke up fumbling on my bed for her

Oh it was a dream, I thought…

In the morning but I have seen

A beautiful rainbow

Through my broken window pane

And found myself smelling rain!

my poem 11.02.2007

Saturday, February 10, 2007

The Looking Glass

Getting a man to love you is easy
Only be honest about your wants as
Woman. Stand nude before the glass with him
So that he sees himself the stronger one
And believes it so, and you so much more
Softer, younger, lovelier. Admit your
Admiration. Notice the perfection
Of his limbs, his eyes reddening under
The shower, the shy walk across the bathroom floor,
Dropping towels, and the jerky way he
Urinates. All the fond details that make
Him male and your only man. Gift him all,
Gift him what makes you woman, the scent of
Long hair, the musk of sweat between the breasts,
The warm shock of menstrual blood, and all your
Endless female hungers. Oh yes, getting
A man to love is easy, but living
Without him afterwards may have to be
Faced. A living without life when you move
Around, meeting strangers, with your eyes that
Gave up their search, with ears that hear only
His last voice calling out your name and your
Body which once under his touch had gleamed
Like burnished brass, now drab and destitute.

poem by Kamala Das

Closing the Kamasutra

In another country at the river’s edge

We lay down in whispering dirt,

Then tried to fix a house with hot hope.

If we live together much longer

I’ll become a cloud in my own soul.

Sweet jasmine floats in a bowl,

A keyboard harbours insects

(Mites in secret laying white eggs).

I must light frankincense to smoke them out

Else the alphabets will fail.

It is written in the Kamasutra --

They embraced not caring about pain or injury,

All they wanted was to enter each other.

This is known as milk-and-water.

Meena Alexander (The Harvard Review 2005) [photo; Mary Mercer 'embrace']