Tongue/s

By SHYAMASRI MAJI

A temple dancer in Konark smiles at us
You adore her flower breast and
admire the chic fly sipping nectar from it,
I feel the pain in her ripped nipple,
and shiver in shame at the thought
of getting stripped in tongue-licking streets
of Gaza and Balochistan
In Imphal valley, rivers flow homeless, like
migrant maids with fear and hunger in eyes
Now and then, in gaping colliery skies
their screams ricochet from shy sunburnt sites
I try to sync them in impeccable English lines
Do I follow the babble of their unbrushed teeth?
I wonder, as I let you enter into my scented mouth
Your tongue entwines mine like French grapevine
Champagne cheeks glow in moon’s waning arc—
When tongues fall asleep, lips sob in the dark
Tacit teardrops tell unspoken tales,
of tongue/s unheard and unsung for years


1 comment

  • I loved this poem. The images are both surprising, and startling. The poet has seen the Hindu images from a unique angle revealing her sensitivity and talent as a keenly observing poet. Kudos to Delhi Slam for bringing honest excellent, original poetry to the fore.

    Gopi Kottoor

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