I’m in your backyard
Like a forgotten vine;
There, but “who cares”
My Iliad of “I love you”
...
Joined in blood and ancestry to the
absurdity of your impetuous absence
are the cryptic crisscrossing lines
or the eddies of your detached dandelion
...
I’ve decided I’ll grow daffodils
I’m wary of orchards in mind
I shall nurture them with manna of blood
And tears
...
Long after the sheets have been wrung straight
And memories and magic of moments
Have escaped scampering
...
I have captured it in an invincible fort of a teardrop
A face like shifting sand
Moving and taking shape
Of named and yet to be dibbed desires
...
this time it fluttered so voraciously
that breath trembled; scampered to hide
underneath the satiety of fear
I turned to tarot of thoughts; palmistry
...
[dedicated to the heartwarming mangrove forest that I intently watch every day from my 10th floor office window; fascination is still alive]
Size of their bellies indeed belittles
the mangroves thicket across channel;
...
and why not I demand? why friggin not?
your smile may fall like a drop
from the washings hung
in an untouchable afternoon
...
I thought I had enough
wad on my hands to comfort
Sufficient salinity in eyes
For a crying duet
...
Shall I love you?
For liberating me
From desire of seeking you?
Since your “uhm”
...