A Rape Nation
My lover number thirty-one accuses me
You are too obsessed with sex
He says I love you
I read,
I Fuck You
He sends virtual kisses
I reply
Let's meet and Fuck
He says
Hug, Hug Hug
I reply
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Finally, we met in bed
I said,
Love you
He fucked me and left.
No Hug. No kisses. No Gift.
A tattered woman learns to read between the lines.
Love is God
We walk to the night's end
Slowly
His lips and my nape
Become the magical fingerboards
of Rabab
our fast breaths play with the
the air of our estuary
In a faraway land, a river begins
To flow for the first time.
The crescent lobes after passing many eclipses
flicker the filigree of our fingers
On the sweaty beach of the river bed.
His tongue whispers
Love is God,
In reply
My clasping moaning rustles life
Inside me
The river falls on our eyes
We become drunk in the water of
our magical grails
Our hearts wail out the first joyous cry
Of the daybreak.
A Culinary Affair
In the cooking vessel
Our love is the rising flame
Our kisses melt in the thickness
Of the fats
We brew together into the
The ultimate delight of our mating tongues
That soothes our burning soul
In the bursting pea pods
I feel our rising and falling waves
Of the magical moments
In the sizzling black cumins
Our moans ripen
into a perfect song of pleasure
And in the cracklings of panch phoron
We explode in each other's arms
with the promise to see every dawn together
In every new dish our love
Is the cardinal spice
which synchronizes the taste buds
with the hunger to drool us
for each other in every
Hip hop move of the
dancing spud.
Moumita Alam is a poet from West Bengal. The most important element of her poetry is her voice of dissent. She questions all existential norms of patriarchy and oppression through her words. At the same time, a heart full of love resides in her work. Her book "The Musings of the Dark" is now available on Amazon.
