Poetry

In deep bottom,
at first light, I
will give you a call.

Because, I was only bones,
muscles worn out in hymns
and the nudes were―
putting on the masks.

You will not deliver―
a denial, nor you will
put forward the Buddhist stance.

Like a curling fern you
want to go in dark shade―
eyes shut.

The circus of stunted men
and lady birds―
will go on unabated.

I swear by fire,
The battered umbilicus will
not bear any gods.

A miraculous escape. I
will not eat your
flesh, hot and red.

We start hitting each other