Fiery Mouth
Into your fiery mouth,
I rush. I am ash.
I am beyond myself,
I am a mottled moth
diving into you
to be consumed.
No, I am wine.
I am honey along
the razor’s edge.
I am your sweet tongue,
the rising serpent kite.
I am the cosmic womb,
inner sanctum of seed.
I am alive in brahmin
and dalit alike.
No longer girl,
not man or bird in flight.
I am the ocean’s song
alive in primordial light,
vermillion dawn
birthed from an endless
jeweled night.
Published in Indian Review
Copyright ©
Sri Lal | Year Posted 2023
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