Thanks to all those who wrote in to say hi. I am posting three poems 
here on the assumption that people will come up with comments and 
thoughts about them. Just a bit about how I write: I taste my words 
before I use them; roll them over on my tongue because words are, 
like all of us know, seductive things. I read poems the same way. 
Tell me what you think�

Nitoo.


Three poems:

(I)
Letter from Ramabai to her Husband


Beloved,
I'm tired 
and this drying body 
remembers the crane-
white of your nails tonight.

The widows come in
limp droves everyday 
and my ears scorch 
with their words.
 
Today, Shanta told me
"They gave me powders
to choke my daughter." 
Her hands kept
fluttering to her head 
as if to touch
dream hair.
 
Sometimes
at night 
I see my brother's 
ghost and we 
still roam and 
wail with hungry
bellies and tongues painted purple with 
sour berries
and my bloated child-belly 
carries Manorama 
kicking and clawing inside me.
 
Beloved, 
it rains outside and termites have grown 
wings to search for frail lovers.
Soon they will 
lose them and 
 
tomorrow
I will see whispered wings 
squashed to 
the ground.



**********
(II)
Proust broke this vase


A vase it was, perhaps 
a tumbler or an urn or maybe
a humbler pot with a tongue 
-fern, a scratched burn.

And Proust broke it
broke it broke
it into scarred shards
sharp mirror-carp shapes
that flashed and turned.

Grapegreen 
and winged bean scenes  
clustered in a museum 
box glassed 
in pride
and we gaped seduced by 
the idea 

of Proust's clumsy 
hands that had 
killed a 
mocking vase.



**********
(III)
When I went over to the other side�


I think it was you 
I saw crouching behind
that leaky amaltas tree. 
 
You were doubled 
over with want
and never saw me 
dribble my 
 
love onto 
your face. 
 
You just swayed 
and flailed, ignored my nipple 
clamps, my elk cracker kisses 
and smelt the bristly 
yellow of 
hawks 
 
aching 
in the 
dark. 


*********** 
 
PS: Shivam, no worries. :)





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