A silent conversation – Devika Mathur




I open one pebble eye,

and there

Yes, there

the rattling leaves,

whistle in the garden


water springing

and the red loneliness of the fallen leaves.

A final step, they declare

to emerge into a nemesis of nights

the flowers indicating

yawns of  the sweet afternoon

leaning towards a fallen bush.

They do not hesitate,

they paint the other fallen one,

flooding my mouth, my hands, my lungs.

each pigment a shade lighter.

I see the lavender tree,

the one where our own hearts blossomed

amongst the thick smoke.

The palm remembers the desperation of air.

The palm remembers the floral touch of your lips too,

The delicious time stops here,

webbing our love on the laps of a lemon juice.

We are just an ordinary stone

what stays is the mind of a flower blooming

rugged wind,

cold dew of a coral rose.

Devika Mathur resides in India…

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