Wednesday, November 10, 2004

I guess I need to tell you now, before I let it go any further
We are both married.
We live on opposite ends of the country
One is six years older and leaving her husband
The other is preoccupied elsewhere,
And after six months of conversing long distance
Both are sure there is no chance
Of falling in love.

We are already falling in this moment in the entrance hall
Long before we descend the stairs to the gallery
My senses take over
Dizzyingly recording each detail, the memories
Of a single instant,
The rustle of his jacket, the
Texture of the worn flannel,
His skin's scent at his neckline
Tiny brown metal eyelets capturing the laces of his shoes, the color of coffee beans
It is freezing outside, and his cheeks are bright with the cold
But there is no thaw in his blush as he sheds his coat
Ushers me down into the museum.

It is a set up.
Bhakti paintings and lyric poetry,
Seeping romance and forbidden longings
We do not speak,
Our bodies draw closer,
Mirror the dance between the aesthetic and erotic
The sakhi revealing what we cannot voice ourselves
The boundary
Replaced with raw desire

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