Saturday 11 January 2014

It happens between men and women, nights and cities

I was looking down at a cityscape 
Glittering with twinkling fury and the darkened oblivion of a summer night 
Littered therein were brotherhood and sounds of darkness I was above a city scattered and vanishing 
I was above gardens, meadows, tiny, hectic and moments adrift in tunnels, boxes and bedrooms with windows. 
You were somewhere in the house 
Was wondering what if you would come and hold me from my back and demand what was due for years
 If you would make and unmake a story 
Dissonant, unheard and a little ruined? 
And next morning like rhymes the sun will return and illumine. 
The apparition, the motionless and the musk. 
Who would know we had remains and ghosts of the past? Who would know the night did split in half 
Who would think of love affairs 
Fragile and wandering? 
Who would think of lust and the tacit? 
Who would think my beliefs were different and so was your religion? 
It happens between men and women, nights and cities. 
You came up the stairs you stood behind me for long
We stood watching architecture, dried throats, reflections and towns. 
You pulled my hands and drew me to your canvases of a mother and the daughter of a Keraliite drummer and some shimmering silences you collect 
And call them Art and aesthetics. 
Things we live to return to. 
You invest only in art 
You invest in green paintings and twittering artefacts They speak to you, you talk to them when you return home at night. 
Perhaps that night you invested in restraint and art. 
When we left together I held within me some art, some games and some convergent spaces
Unfulfilled and expanding 
Perhaps that night you invested in games and circles 
And I wanted to ask you: 
Did you ever invest in love?


Edited by Dr Ampat Koshy 

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