My Earth
Parth Raghav,
The flowers in my earth don’t bloom
until they feel you enter and
walk the naked feet
on the soft misty leaves.
The seeds buried deep
become flowers for you to pluck out
and put around your ears.
In your see-through white cotton shirt,
you enter the freshly irrigated field,
golden crop brewing in dust and solar winds.
The sun sinks in the ocean of gloom
And the reflection of stars form images
Your hands caress the outlines of my body
As my outlines begin to diminish
Into you.
The eyes take the shape of filaments of light
As they begin to slowly to take a bite into the slice of life
that oozes out of your creasing smile.
I want to eat even though I'm full.
The roaring brightness of a sunny day
and the screaming silence of a rainy night
We hold one another marinating each other
so in the warmth of our bodies,
we survive the cold of the night.