In The Hurry Of A Twister - Poem by Sofiul Azam
Honey, I won't say you're my newfound land
like that bloody Donne did centuries back,
keeping his imperial intentions a bit blurry to her
but you inspire me to write poems in agony!
The green cropping up yields the chaff, wells -
simply a memory kept for further thirst. Miles
and miles in between us, a longer distance
I can't cross over, no matter how much I give
it a try out. But if you ever hang your face
just like a curtain of low clouds, I know I won't
see the sun worth praying for in the dark nor
find the epithets for it long stored into creases
of my brain, inherited from my ancestors. Oh,
if I could chance to write about the shining inside!
As I don't have you converging into my arms,
I have Lobachevsky to propose - Parallel
lines do meet in infinity, if not in reality. Yes,
I'm sure you'll say like a spinster, frigidity out-
bursting in her blood cells: Sir, intoxicating
it kind of sounds, worth pursuing for, but it's
pretty much the way dreamers freak out
in the end. And smilingly you'll shut yourself
out from my eager embrace like one intent
on slamming doors against an intruder! Pools
of our sweat would then be cold, frosted over
as in the Arctic still takes by NG photographers.
A gulf in between but how closer we are: know
all of it well in this hurry of the twister I'm.
Note: Nikolai Lobachevsky (1792-1856) was a mathematician who proposed the theory that parallel lines converge in infinity.
from IN LOVE WITH A GORGON (2010)
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