Snowflakes dragging line dust icy-sweet story on tongue—popping candy, talc on carom board
and coin strike.
as you insist,
staccato sparks on trails and one more soul aboard.
There is sore on the left breast-hidden bailiwick of tales with pink drapes pinned to the shoulder,
in moments silhouette fall for collar bone swift low reveals Clift-naked skin, for a man it is
a bench- broaden spirit for women it is drowning name.
Spud wound, be careful it needs gentle yet accurate surgeon scalpels, puss-oxblood on a yellow
knob opens, 1st chapter-Trade innocence with desire. Strongly built with hair lining on cheeks
weigh 9 years old on torso, he rubs and rubs till it shrinks beneath and between her thighs. Body-
part game in the tiny skull, the ace man plays.
The father merely a botanist yet plucks from his yard and examines under microscopic lens "here
is bosom, there is clit, stigma to land and noted it on his palm lines, to keep record he drank from
his daughter's nectar once in a week, twice a day.
With the swing in feminine curves, vines grow through spine fills chest-casket with two fruits,
fruits are feast of long waited carnival, young lad bows down, kiss earth asks for glimpse—
jackal turning head says "sour grapes" , Naive mind think of it as stuffed pie flavoring at service, wealthy mortal wants seal-packed of it dripping quilt in aww! more like dogs and less wolf apply
force to uproot it: every mouth digs for fair, giggle and not shudder—hyenas in bushes.
Cold metal clamps thump snout-floating carrion in blood ocean, protrude creel to see reckoning relationship without an anchor, closeness of tides to moon and moth getting drawn to warmth
and light, morning with two arms to hold, words that melt glasses—being visible from inside out,
clear-transparent exposed fins before someone. Porcelain-ware in process—twisted, fletched and molded on bed then golden circle onto a finger of particular size further glossy vase in rooms
corner: changing identity diminishing value. love dies in womb fold along with tiny limbs, underdeveloped nose-ears and the leaving of deceitful hands.
Whole night walk on the skiff and thick froth,
listen—an ice crackle and its figment drowning and uprising—ongoing war between snow and
Shilpa Bharti, pen name- Rose, literature lover and aspiring author cum poet. Nationality-Indian.The book Distance is her debut upcoming poetry book. She is Jawaharlal Nehru University, Delhi, India graduate in Chinese language.