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-       Ram Krishna Singh (India)




rocking chair:

sun through the clouds in


after days of rain

and nostalgic nights


she hands me

a lukewarm tea of

ginger, clove

and honey to make

love and stay alive





shadows fly from my fingers

with the moving wrist—

the hand disappears


I can’t touch her heart

under the tan skin:

they waver behind the glass


hissing through clenched teeth

as I sip my drink

she gives me a frozen smile






who can see

except myself

the ghetto within?


I laugh away

when she senses it

in the fa├žade

of the forgotten


I reinvent

searching miracles

in her annoyance





she props the stooping lemons

with stake but avoids

bending close to me:


I die to draw the blossom

in my twining arms

but she likes the other scent





she’s graceful

on bended knees


head bent, in peace


victim of whip

can’t pull back

past happiness

love’s sharp tongue


he’s no lug

can’t see the gems

in rain drops

her aura shines




I feel her hyaline influx

in my deep love leaps

from the soul with subtle glows

her breath runs through my veins:

this vassal of the flesh blushes

as I drink the infinite in her




don’t question the lips

that wilt the tongue

licking wetness in the mouth


the mystery of delight

prophecy of the birth

by salty swallowing


make new parables

with face mask surviving

one more gospel




To see you naked

is to recall the earth

says Garcia Lorca


it’s no sin to love

strip naked in bed, kitchen

or prayer room


the bodies don’t shine

all the time nor passion

wildly overflows


but when we have time

we must remember parts

arouse dead flesh


rub raw with desire

peeling wet layers through light

sound, sense and taste


play the seasons:

the thirst is ever new

and blissful too


to recreate

the body, a temple

and a prayer