Offering

the kindness of libation, lyric, and blood

her endless notes left for me—
                                               little secrets, graces —
               trills recorded on blue and purple parchment
to be lipped, tasted, devoured—

only essence remains—
                its stickiness, its juice, its memory

seamless juxtaposition—
                the brute and the passion,
                                dry of the bone and wet of the sea,
coarseness of the page and smooth of the nib's iridium

I try and trace a line, a very long line—

               the ink blots
                                as this line's linear edges
dissolve and fray—

like capillary threads
               gone mad
               the ink blots
                                twirling in the deep heat of the tropics—

threads unravelling,
               each sinew tense with the want of moisture
and the other's flesh

there are no endings here—
only beginnings—
                                               precious incipience—

translucent drops of sweat
               perched precariously on her collar-bone
                                                              waiting to slide,
roll unannounced into the gulleys
that yearn to soak in the rain—

heart-beat shift
the shape of globules
                                as they alter their balance and colour,
changing their very point of gravity—

constantly deceiving the other

I stand, wanting—
              wanting more of the bone's dry edge,
the infinite blur of desire,
                                                                         the dream

the wet, the salt, the ink,
and                                       the underside of her skin

from Prayer Flag (Peepal Tree, 2003), Rain (Mapin/Gallerie, 2005), and forthcoming in Blue Nude: New Selected Poems & Translations 1980-2010.