Written by: S.Jagathsimhan Nair


Times without number
That’s as far as one could remember
Or  better still conjecture
At this end of this ocean we stood, at the edge
Aghast at the tardiness of virility
Invisible except for its vivid physiognomy
That swirled and rolled and spent itself
In a recurring recuperation of empathy
Till rains agoraphobic arrived
As a successful  ‘in vitro’ in the glass sky 
A sodden blast of breeze scattering a mound of leaves 
Breathing  into the fertile insides
Slick in fermentation
Sticking  to sticky  bloodied life.

9 Mar 13
S.Jagathsimhan Nair

Entry for Rick Parise's contest

For PD's 'Freeverse contest' now on 13 mar 13