Two arches met at a dot
they rose in times of doubts
together, like identical twins
then relaxed like a pair of legs
on a warm Californian beach.
they flew to the sides,
wrinkled like grandma’s skin,
shrunk like a rubber band
danced like an ant on sand
quivered like a raven’s wing.
Two little boats in calm waters,
the borders lined darkly
by a mysterious fisherman.
white milk filled to the boats’ brim
milk spilled from two black urns
that now sit upside down
with a poise, unbroken but fallen
milk inside, glistening and calm
like the waters around.
The cave of soft mild kisses
with red velvet polish
open and close, lined with pink
ruby-juice smeared at the entry
smells of exotic wines and berries
odor too tempting, alluring
every time the cave opened, a sound
a rhythmic sin, a lusty call
then the voice smiles sweetly
and so does the ruby cave.
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you too have a poem you’d like to submit, do mail us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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