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.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
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 :)
ReplyDeletewww.veruugal.blogspot.com