Cleopatra’s nose, Pauline Bonaparte’s, eyes
And the, breasts of Venus, all she was
A vile, premier’s, legacy of lies
The sum, of, all his, moral flaws!

“Love, an unloved wife”, was, her excuse
To her, father’s, wary secretary
Who fell, for her, more than, her ruse
While treading, to, adultery’s territory!

We were, two, equal enigmas
At the, corridors of, power and lust
Till a, yogi’s tryst, with her, dilemmas
Ended liaisons, of, hunger and thirst!

She rose, to the heights, of her, dynasty’s worth
Whilst, I lingered on, in her, bequests
I still, savor her, mortal mirth
The Moribund Milk, In A, Mother’s Breasts!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra