Courtship is falling like an avalanche,
Engagement is a devil’s advocate,
Always questioning the impending canonization,
Of two people, man and woman,
In a saintly union, an institution of its own.
How the process is made of the corporeal
And the out-of-body. How saints too were like lovers,
Impaled by arrows – but not by cupid –
Hung upside down, burnt like witches.
Love it makes you do summersaults,
And you feel it in the bone, like a cancer
Of the marrow, and you take her in,
Like a homeless person, and give her a home,
A room in your soul, lit by a bulb.
Marriage, we think of it as like the full moon,
Full of glow and a perfect circle,
When it’s only like a spherical orange,
Squeezed of life, it becomes a thirst quencher,
The juice, the pips and the flesh,
And is as sweetening, as it is bitter,
Like home-made marmalade.