This wretched body
A handful of hungry bones
And aching tissue
Sings the melodious
Mohana raga
Full of purposeless passion
His bony fingers
Wrought such fine music
Out of my rosy-hued body
In the warm summer nights
I steal another's man
Our sweaty union
Derogatorily called
Extra-marital love, goes on
Under drawn curtains
And smothered lamps.
Waves of tiny ants crawl
Under the burning skin
Tingling, tickling
The underside of the knees
This stupid pathetic creature
Wants me to whisper
Love-words into his seedy ears
I cannot do so because
The magic of my electrified body
Belongs to me alone
And not to this moron
He does not exist for me
He is a faceless identity
Who is only marginally different
From the usual man in my bed .
I look at myself in the mirror
I have gone through this all
The creaking door, the sound of the flush
The gathering of the clothes
The small talk, the attempts at politeness
It is so painfully boring .
This wretched body
A bag of hungry bones
And aching tissue
Remains as yearning as ever.
