A Spent Evening With A Whore


“Would you be my question today” she said
“Or the answer to my ugliness!”
“Oh! Yes” I said
“Beyond my guess
You’re the bleeding evening in undress”

As we lay in sand on naked beach
She suckled me on her immortal sin
“How weary could be a day’s remains”
She told me holding high her broken chin
“Yeah! Deflowered like an old virgin”
I said, and then counted tears, on her aching skin

“Why cities are born and lost in crowds
And men learn to chase their shadows like ghosts
To then haunt the streets when sun dies down
In the goblets of discordant hosts”
“Oh!” I said “How truth invents a lie for you
And lie invents a truth for me”
Life’s question, lingers on, like your nudity”

Under blanket of blood, on cooling sand
She bared her soul, unlike many others
Stood tall her question like her lasting strand
Overshadowed my manhood
“Your womanhood, me, smothers!”

Until the nightfall, and we lost it all
The questions and answers, wherever they began
I stared at her face, still full with grace
“Ain’t shameful you, to a shameless man!”
She pondered and caressed me over again
Like a nurse, solacing a dying man
Then brought close, the pieces of her splintered face
“Didn’t your question, answer my existence?”
And the debate, vanished without a trace”

© 2016 Vikas Chandra

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