Dark- Less Noons Poem by Boudhayan Mukherjee

Afternoons that I remember after
Noons.Afternoons, later.
Noons after noons after noons
Run about like children for boons
Wasp-nested on the shu-babul tree
Covered by wings of fun.
Noonday at Sriniketan Farm
Intoxicating sun, cicadas dash towards
Your forehead then fly off laughing.
After the noon I touch, my lips sing
On the breasts of the farm-women.
I drink a glass of green
Guava green through their nipples,
Our bodies heat up like the compost pit
Noonish experiences, dark-less tits.