I bite into a medu vada like a far thought
when a heart shaped balloon teases the sky
it bites back / the vada cyclops eyed
when bitten / the mark left behind is
a violent shape // if I raise my hand the
sky is smeared with chutney & sambhar
a very south indian midas' untouchability
the balloon / shed size / gained distance
soft in the skinny hours of love // I raise
my hand to touch the trace of its mooring
thread & the sky is smeared white & red
as clouds zero in & attack the heartbroken
blood dot with the ends of their thunders
it rains / & only as monsoons can / arouse
camphor even out of these traffic blighted
roads // with each drop the vada regenerates
in the gaps between my breaths / it breathes
~Ajay
23/6/2020
YOU ARE READING
bliss station ~ poetry
Poetry~ where is your bliss station / you have to try to find it ~
