Bullets, Balloons, Body

"I have dipped my pen in the sublime, it is my gift to you . . ." A Rambling Poet A river on my left Rail tracks on my right Yet the aim of a gun is my only sight. A weapon heavier than me A lover stronger than thee And colored balloons under a tree. An eye settling for the perfect gun-eye injury A weapon close to a heart which (ironically) has never known fury. Blue, Green, Red, Yellow Each color in a row. My finger on the trigger And a mind of vigor Shot four of them dead Yet not a tear was shed. On undressing myself the same day I saw the same colors of May On my thighs, breasts and arm, A reflection of his charm. Somrwita Guha