Thursday, August 4, 2016

The rain
is dancing down
like angry temple goddesses
from forgotten ancestral attics,
decked out to see the world
on elephant tops only once a year.
-cymbals clanging-
heavy breasts and
flat feet
claiming earth
in vengeance
to extinguish pyres
burning from past
ember by ember
drop by drop
deluges of desires
answered only in her prayers.

1 comment:

  1. Is it about women? I can smell it. We reek of it, some womaness. Like some intermittent river, we flow. Dispersed into million tiny rivulets, flowing in different directions. But we flow :) And it is a pleasant shock when one rivulet meets the other and recognises its sistren :)