With hallucinating fingers of forecasting
I counted your skin and your mouth and I counted you
Your mouth poured water on my soiled heart, almost a surreal thing.
And you buttered my hair, my lips, my hips
with cerulean droplets of your vintage mirror.
I saw you taking vodka and pills while sobbing
near the cliff, near the swollen ebb,
near the Earth
to see him departing you and bisecting you
like old cassettes and used carpets
he played the keys of the mundane monopoly game,
Oh, I saw you circling your eyes
with oceans of thunders and clinging dirt
you ate so ferociously the whole dinner by yourself
like you wanted nothing but this food
and the platter was already full of brass and copper.
Mother, mother, mother
I see a soliloquy of sustenance sinking
right on the joints of your tongue
and extending deep down to your tottering chipped toenail
I have drunk the milk your poured me
rummaging the past bonds, the past sorrows
like the splitting of peas and dicing of peas.
I always wanted to surround you, Mother
And then, the time came I saw you emulsifying
Saturating and desiccating
With a cigar in your mouth, you wanted to bleed prayers
Ransacking these walls of thesis and soft love
you wished to melt and melt and melt
I sat and saw you, still scavenging your unsaid words
your love, your molten body
like Jaipuri studded skirts.
I wanted to weep and splash reality that day
in the spirits of my hallucinating verses.
But, you did not care Mother,
You melted anyway.