Mathew Thomas Poems
- A Hundred Deaths Becoming a woman, Songs sung dry, I ...
- Bedsheet White it was, the bed sheet, Naked against my ...
- Karma It was a tiny pustule, That welled up as a sore, ...
- I See You On the hospital bed, In the I SEE YOU, Where no...
- My Class I teach a class of students' lex, Who leave me ...
- Onam It is Onam, In God's own country, Where palm fronds ...
- In Search Of God Searched for God, In the hills and ...
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Comments about Mathew Thomas
White it was, the bed sheet,
Naked against my skin,
Secret hold, of amorous sins,
Of many desires in between.
Crumpled now of intense weld, congealed,
With musk in between,
Heady smells of under armpits,
Intoxicated, lulled my wits.
White and pristine before,
Not white anymore,
Of liaisons, stains and sin,
No longer sensual against my skin.
But then can I throw it, in the wash bin,
Seek another against my skin,
White and pristine, should I keep,
Only as a shroud when I finally sleep.