Love
Love is more strange
when I hear a drop
of rain tossed from
a leaf on a chance
of leaf beneath.
you be
that question
in my dream
unbesieged (ravelling aloof
sole proprietor
of the spur that repeats
(unrest
an~us revisited. un-
likely meet.
winter through diaphanous veils
Narcissus
keep insinuation aside.
I’ve never seen snow but winter
as always beautiful
and me.
the fog mufflers my throbs look
even through glass
the dew that fell
shook the restive
remembrance I indulged
this winter in of ओस & us & leaf each
timorous inside and lashed
ओस to leaf and I to us.
penitent blinds. I’ve curtailed this winter
to not seem more than it is
and me.
Orpheus
the purple sky leaks grey matter.
if only the truth was less
severe the trees would’ve stopped
scripting the wind and rested in
fog like sleep.
forget it. winter is love in duress
and unmended
let the sky kneel.
Oedipus
I was born that winter
my eyes leapt and cleaved
transfixed remember? Uncertain
dim then deferred
night trickled through fog
importune
was born from inhospitable you
my
Psyche
it never happened// to repeat itself
my aubade all morning
through the window I watch you leave
if indeed I inflict myself
cause your displeasure, would you abandon
enmeshed in the melting gauze-like daybreak
intact with shadow and relief you return
me because love & kiss are out of bounds
and be only traced when drunk
two-fingered width of gleam
from the trees trespassed
so it seems all a dream when awake
and alone
nocturnal captives held by dawn
dispensed now as I wake and falter
no proof to remember us
so insumate