mon amour by June Nandy
You say, halve your brain,
keep the cubicles in the left;
valley of flowers in the right,
let there not be a crevasse,
we need the green papers.
Ah, how can I forget the grocer,
people, who hold our roof,
our flesh, still in the lower case?
I’ve built a bridge
bringing the grass to my work;
dragging the chair sometimes to the dreams.
And you took flight to the mountain tops.
You tell me, times are like living with cannibals;
I wish, like pre-historic times, you could
sometimes let loose the beast into me.
When I slide my hands into yours, I wish
you'd twist it sharp and break me; but
my hands get stamped by your warmth;
I remain glued to you.
The final betrayal awaits us
in your passionate work;
in my creative cooking.
keep the cubicles in the left;
valley of flowers in the right,
let there not be a crevasse,
we need the green papers.
Ah, how can I forget the grocer,
people, who hold our roof,
our flesh, still in the lower case?
I’ve built a bridge
bringing the grass to my work;
dragging the chair sometimes to the dreams.
And you took flight to the mountain tops.
You tell me, times are like living with cannibals;
I wish, like pre-historic times, you could
sometimes let loose the beast into me.
When I slide my hands into yours, I wish
you'd twist it sharp and break me; but
my hands get stamped by your warmth;
I remain glued to you.
The final betrayal awaits us
in your passionate work;
in my creative cooking.
Published poet with: Taj Mahal Review, Sein Und Werden, Clockwise cat (april'09), Kota press (April'09), Malaysian Poetic Chronicle, Cyberwit.net, Poetry Super Highway, Decanto (June'09). Author of Book, "Earth's Tilted Spine". Currently working on a novel which is expected to come out by the year end. June lives with her family in Calcutta and loves to globetrot.
