The Scab

An intense love poem by Lopamudra.

Crush me like old dust
between your palms,
Let me burn in sulphur flames
amid those burning grains.
I want to die,
the last humdrum embers.
As you scratch my skin
to purge the hostile juices,
You remind me of childhood
and make-believe clichés.

Let me be the scab, the bitch,
As you press your palms against mine.
Catch me in a forbidden corner,
licking my eyes’ wax,
My hunger, as I read out to you
my poetry and quirks.

From one world to the next, I hold you
In burning breath
and the whimsies of fairy tales.
My sunflower and iris, my ocean and sky
Prostrated at your feet,
my imperfect, tilted world
A selective oblivion.

©Lopamudra Banerjee

Pix from Net

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