Monday, July 9, 2012

Ablution

In Varanasi, where temples
outnumber the temple-goers,
we sought to sully
the waters of a tired river
that exhaled the stink
of past pilgrims
with the stale mud of our
infrequent sins,
amassed over thoughtless
years.

We believed the whores,
thieves, homosexuals,
who attested the chants
of widows and priests
and plunged ourselves
into a river whose waters,
balm and sulfur
for soul and skin,
we were careful not to
swallow.

Is it strange that I
perspired in the water -
dreading the ablution
would purge my conscience
and strip me of
the redolent muck
I'd thoughtlessly amassed
over infrequent moments
when I had truly
lived?


Thursday, February 16, 2012

Snake

There was a time you were flesh
and I was skin -
If you were cold I trembled,
when you hurt, I bled,
and when you burnt, I scarred.

But now that you tire of me,
you cast me off -
Plucking me away with nails,
as if I were nothing more
than flake and crust.

I'd got old and wrinkled in the meantime.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

The Least You Can Do Is Pretend


If I die today,
then tomorrow, will you miss me,
or will you waste hours minutes days,
laughing in hyphens,
weeping at trifles,
before you notice my absence
and realize it is time
to laugh, or weep, once again?