Triangular Poem by Ananta Madhavan

On Sanchi hill a sedentary Buddha
With eyes turned inward, eyes of introspection,
Did not perceive a play of ironies
Enacted on his lap, but I was witness:
There I observed a jaunty tourist couple
Prancing among the uncommenting ruins;
Anon the wench espied the awesome figure,
Lost in a stony trance, so photogenic.
She sate herself with amorous abandon
Upon the lust-less thighs, and nestled closer,
(Her glasses like a pair of death-head sockets) ,
He snapped her thus in that adulterous posture,
Unmindful of the sacrilege, but jealous.