Someone called last night-
A big bird with sweet call
Soft hush and laughters
The Peepal behind this old building,
had spread her legs and bled again.
Neem whisperers lie still
the rain has perhaps stopped.
He did not call and I did not listen-
April receded,
the madness too.
The little Blue Goddess in Mandakini
has tied her hair,
slept through the night
and not woken up.
Hope is a poet in a woman's garb.
Tonight, only memories from a stolen kiss remain-
On everything else rain and more rain smells decadence.


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