Art by Anastasia Ziemba

Give a gram, or take a pound

It is now clear
to me after two
(or more?)
years of nagging
that we will never
kiss in the rain –
oh much pain
it is to realise that
you do not like
the monsoon at all,
and soon (a year from now?)
you will be away;
in a sway
of emotions
will I resist (should I?)
writing to you.

But when my letters find you
in a place far away –
way far from here –
not near to
me (oh near you should be),
I will pour out my emotional
barrel to you
and watch it drain down the sink
of your well-tiled room
while you
in all your negligence towards me,
nibble on the bones
of your Malabar Biryani –
the cloves left on the plate.

You have fetched me more
insights of you; left me sore
in my dreams where you refuse
to leave me on my bed
and if we were to wed,
I’d make a fine husband –
happily scrubbing floors
peeling potatoes that do not go
sweet –
who likes sweet potatoes
when all the sweetness
in a mess
can be derived from your kisses,
oh, my Misses.


Art by Anastasia Ziemba
Inspired by Arul Mani’s Give an inch, or take an ell

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