Justice, You and I

Justice, deceit, hair,
woman, you and I:
a thin wire of grief,
a tone almost querulous …

There was a woman
I once made love to
and I remember how
holding her small shoulders
in my hands I felt
a violent wonder …
like the thirst for knowledge,
for my childhood river,
for the muddy places
where we were caught
like pumpkin seeds.

Her desire was an endless distance.
Something that her father had said
had hurt her.
Her dreams were tender,
her flesh as numinous as words,
which sculpted the words
in undivided light …
her desire was actually a flute,
and a little song played on it …
in a tone almost querulous …
a thin wire of grief,
justice, deceit, hair.
Woman, you and I,
a thin wire of grief,
justice, you and I.

Brahmanand Singh
(read at the 5th Sept 2004 meet)