For them, spills, morning, blessed tea
For me, lees of, last night’s liquor
Sore clitoris, screams, my rhapsody
Church-bells, their piety’s, metaphor!
My last night’s, riots, stray for miles
Thru the stillness, of their, morning’s mirth
In parks, their kids flaunt, nonchalant smiles
Whilst squirms, in my womb, a bastard for birth!
Am I, God’s bane, or, Satan’s boon
Asks enigma, of my, estrangement
When their sun, dies down, I gaze, at my moon
Bedizened, in, sin’s sacrament!
My skin, is savannah, of their, seminal fest
The growers, and reapers, of sin’s orchards
I lose, my soul, in my, heart’s conquest
Nirvana’s Quest, Between, Two Worlds!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra
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