The Voyeur

Lured by the light in the bathroom, he comes, prowling through the layers of darkness. Seeing the two paws clinging on the window bars, and a pair of blue eyes burning through the holes of lust, a village virgin whoops, when the voyeur slinks away. As the hot sun rays warm the canal, he hides in the bushy banks, throwing his blue eyes into the distant nudity. Sometimes, he is seen being chased by the rustics with bamboo sticks. But quick oblivion is bliss; he gets duty bound again. Hiding is a risk, but peeping is a pleasure. Through the twigs and bars, he stares at the other side of pleasure. First printed in my book, Kanoli Kaleidoscope (published by Punkswritepoemspress, US),and then reprinted in The Literary Hatchet