Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
You claimed you preferred the safety of public spaces;
To appear at bookstores, a park, a hotel pool.
I had grown attuned to your frequent assaults on sleep;
Till late last night you chose to blast the rule,
And accost me in a room where only you could see me.
Your eyes held mine with a stare hell-bent on slaughter.
I recall a feverish ripping of shirts, the pressure
Of nails on astonished skin, but little thereafter,
Except the sound of the flesh crying out for more.
When you bit my lips I’m certain they bled.
You loosened your grip, then rose and reached for the door.
A salt-lamp quivered in the dark. There, you said,
I told you one day you’ld get what you’ve always longed for:
That’s how it feels to get fucked awake by the dead.