Distant Love

Susmita Paul

 

As distant as the home lies in my navel

The sun that once shone.

Emptied of the womb, now I lie

Prostrate like a frog dissected on the laboratory table

That still smells of iodine and bona fide jealousy

Of dreams now crushed.

 

Being someone is never the same as being someone else.

 

And yet, the bottom of well-used pans do not crease

But smell of the birth of passions.

The caretakers of love

Stop by and effuse the potion with

A raw spirit- undying, tangled, and blooming.

 

Beyond the harbours of sleep, I stand now

Becoming the tangible scent of breast milk-

The time is truly in the now.