Thus spoke Love

Each time I end a relation,  

I dust my room.

Not in search of bloody remains,

but for something worthwhile

suddenly you get hell of a time,

and you sleep endlessly.

and that's how , one day, 

I traveled to my pre-history.

In a backyard

where I made mud buns,

on white earth, that turned black as I drew on it,

once,

I saw,

yellow blue flames 

twist and shake,

over wooden blocks,

like cabre dancers.

The red embers, those peep out

of wooden bars, wink,

and I forget

the smell of loss and my worries

for a grandma,

burning

may be, that's how,

I learnt to dance

over human flesh

and rise to the skies 

for a moment or two,

before stretching in your sleep.

and calling it a day!


Thus spoke Love