 |
||||||||||||||
 |
 |
|||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||
|
Elegy of the adulteress She termed our love making bourgeoisie.
I reminded her of a haberdasher's mannequin in a Buñuel film. I was every bloke she picked in bars, the bloke she married for love. I was not the sailor who tied her heart into a knot. I was not the guitarist who plucked her life strings till her limbs sang of hidden moons. I was a washed up hull, a yoyo. The usual mistake her body made every year the spring was late in coming. By Arjun Rajendran QLRS Vol. 10 No. 4 Oct 2011_____
|
|
|||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||||
|
||||||||||||||
|
|
|||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||
Copyright © 2001-2024 The Authors
Privacy Policy | Terms of Use |
E-mail