Mix-up

Coffee turns bitter with spoons of chicory,
tastes rancid; the drink leaves traces in the cup –
muddy streams where I comb for contours of memory:

a protruding bone on the neck, mole under the nose,
lines around lips like paranthesis. Memories bear scars
like river beds where crisscross channels of desire.

The copper glint on skin exposed to sun, hair behind ears
licked by sweat are seen on things wholly unrelated –
born from a mind that has lost count of time,

when present slides into past. I hear a voice in the mall,
I search in the crowded elevator, in the billing counter,
in someone who slants her head in a particular manner.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s