Tag Archives: pretty woman

Forlorn

 

Did I lose you somewhere
Between the hyacinth and the ribbons
The pleats and folds of my adult drape?

I know you still wait for me, my moon
As the night flutters, the unfailing rose
Drunk with solitude and honeyed longing.

I breathe shallow and deep, my eyes
Swept away by stardust, I am alone
Your milk, eager and firm, waits for me
At the shore of the night.

Between my trembling lips and voice,
Your song hides in the fugitive wind,
Slender and silent, you walk away,
Barefoot, soaking in the night’s last ashes.

Did I call you, my white hills
Breaking, sinking at the wake of dawn?
I return to the day, dust blown
Crushing sand beneath my feet,

You have sliced me to pieces,
I move, unsure, forlorn, in spirals
Of smoke as I call you out
My moorings trapped in the day, dying.

Lopa Banerjee. Written in February 2015

Don’t Tell Me: A Plea

Don’t tell me when you come back to me
Frost-bitten, smitten with the wind-drift,
Bespattered with mud, and slain,
That I did’nt wait for you long enough.
My ashes, kept intact,
The morsels of my deepest elements,
The fluid warmth
Of the deep, dark trenches
Of my being–have frozen, nude and barren,
In the waiting.

Don’t tell me that I lie and exaggerate
When I say you clenched and unclenched,
As I gagged and loosened my mouth
On you, with myths and high-flying tales
Of love, and fortitude.
You have never known when waiting
Becomes a crashing glass,
A staring into space, a beautiful scar.

My nights grow in the crumbling brick walls
The chimney smoke blowing,
Dark patches in the ashen sky.
Layer upon layer, the unopened boxes
Of my taut, mellowed wants,
The pastel shades worn, bust to waist,
Waist to hip, hip to thighs and ankles
Looked at, devoured, turned away,
Stark dead, grinning,
With banana skins and muggy air.

Don’t tell me you didn’t find me
Amid the thin film of sunlight
In the dark, arid room.
I waited, customarily,
Glittering, darkening in my prayers.

Copyright: Lopa Banerjee. February 1, 2015

Note: A humble dedication to the unwavering, undying spirits of women who bear the onslaught of patriarchy, every single day, unfailingly.