Neelamani Sutar Poet Romanticism

The Unspoken Radius

In the polished circumference of refinement
my wild longings dissolve like salt in warm rain.

Everything untamed--
the tremor beneath my ribs when your voice grazes the air,
the way my pulse forgets its manners at the scent of your skin--
quietly erased,
as if refinement were a gentle, merciless hand
wiping fog from a mirror until only the acceptable face remains.

Yet without these invisible walls,
how would desire survive its own blaze?
How would love keep from burning the rooms
we are allowed to share?

I stand three measured steps away,
laughing at the correct jokes,
while my blood writes your name in secret fire across my throat.

The emerald at my nostril catches light and lies--
a small green star pretending composure 
while inside me a monsoon waits,
thundering against the cage of decorum.

At night the boundaries soften.
I trace the curve of your absence on cool sheets,
mouth shaping syllables too dangerous for daylight
 
If only once the circle would fracture--
let the raw, wet ache spill over,
flood the marble floors of restraint--
then perhaps my heart could speak your name aloud
without apology,
without vanishing into the elegant silence 
that keeps us both alive
and slowly, exquisitely,
kill us.

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