It is mid-afternoon now,
the sun streaks slant wards
through the attic's double-glazing
melting the scorched ink
...
One moonlit December night
you came knocking at my door,
I took my time to open.
...
My syntax, tightly-wrought—
I struggle to let go,
to let go of its formality,
...
some things, I knew,
were beyond choosing:
didu—grandmother—wilting
under cancer’s terminus care.
...
A bright red boat
Yellow capsicums
Blue fishing nets
Ochre fort walls
...
Under the soft translucent linen,
the ridges around your nipples
harden at the thought of my tongue.
You — lying inverted like the letter ‘c’ —
...
You carelessly tossed
the jacket on a chair.
The assembly of cloth
collapsed in slow motion
...
Outside, “Allah-u-Akbar”
pierces the dawn air —
It is still dark.
...
a languorous kiss —
the faintest smell of ocean —
salt-lipped breeze, pleading —
...