In a Graveyard

I always wonder what it would be like To lose a loved one. And I imagine leaving a white lily Where she would be – my wife who passed away from cancer. I look around to see the lichen covered tombstones The weeds of nidikumba flowering in purple The sight of crows heckling the worms….

Kiss Sutra

The frog tongue jumps out of Goldfish lips. Frenching is like fencing. Still there’s nothing sordid about Lip smack, even tongue gobble And a kiss, isn’t it the sublime honesty Of yearning-powered lips Fishing with a hook, to ensnare the catch Of a rosy-pink wonderland, Inching towards primal contact? There’s really nothing much towards Kiss…