He stared at the drops pityingly
Yet her soul scrambled
Through nightmares of years
For breathing space, trying
To suck cooler waters of make-believe;
Yet, no circles, no back-wheeling
For him, on prints of time.
It was finally over.
But she was still very wet,
With rush of waves in her head
And monstrous blood-storms
On requiems, she nursed alone
In mourning moonlight zones.
They didn’t tighten her ribcage with reason.
She loved his dark voice breaking her prison
Waking her insides with a quivering breeze
Yet the silent waters lay in wait
While she urged the pain talk in uncertain
Tongues; sealing, lips of defeat.
She waited on expectant footfalls
To destination; like a glass of half-filled milk
Fated for a basined end
Or a warm, moist gulp in bed.
Sure he sat near
Close enough to rouse her beats
Playing truant with eyes and words.
But he looked away, clutching ice and fire
Digging earthen woes with clear lens.
She longed for forbidden joys
While he spoke; alien hands, sprawling
Branches, ignoring her existence.
But she didn’t thaw the icicles
With her eyes. Still worshipping
She was all smiles.
Author of three publications and poetry, short stories in various other magazines. Published poems and short stories in Bengali and English. Published articles and essays in various magazines. Satabdi Saha is an ex- professor of English in D.A. College, Kolkata.