Is This the Last Day of Autumn in Dhenkanal?

by Bibhu Padhi (March 2014)

Someone whispers, winter

is already here.

 

From the south-facing hills,

a thin sheet of chill is stealing in

through the ill-fitting doors, but

 

it is really ending-autumn

and kisses float in the air,

like free pollens.

 

Lips of anthers open out of

 

sparkles of pure magic.

 

There is only a lone pair of

brown lips I know that sticks to me.

 

The lips wait for what they

so desperately need,

turn into gold,

 

while others move away

towards blank, senseless spaces

 

where nothing can grow except

tiger grass and weeds.

 

in spotless, shining gold

 

waits for these brown autumn lips

as kisses do in the open air

 

for their deep, growing needs.

 

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