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fluid
She came down slowly, warily, tiptoeing through the chambers of gravity like an old feather, pulled away from her roots; she scalded me with her caress, her fiery arms clashing against my burning caramel skin, turn- ing it bitter and dark like ash: ashes float away from my palms, riding on the backs of heralds… →
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Clock River
Inky black hands point guns at my heart and It obliges, beating, chasing the flow of the river In deluge, calling out in despair to the clammy Midnight sky that settles down in a thick cloud Of burnt flakes of eggplant skin, depositing its Grimy, pungent smell into my nares, sending Ripples of warning and… →
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The Persons of Our World
Glistening in the sun like an actress colouring her skin caramel, the water slithers down the hills and follows paths that never end, the shuffling beads of her necklace falling off her bosom, hand in hand, skirting around riverine islands in a dance of nature that we control with our jukebox: we pull at the… →
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Ghost Stories
A triad of haikus. i. Every home has ghosts, Most of them tend to tango With mother’s hearts. ii. Many people think Tales of fright are meant to daunt But spectres speak sweet. iii. Through souls they horde you, On memories they subsist: But ghosts live like priests. →
Mihir Rajamane 