He talks, turning a sun-stained
Cheek to me, his mouth, a dark
Cavern, where stalactites of
Uneven teeth gleam, his right
Hand on my knee, while our minds
Are willed to race towards love;
But, they only wander, tripping
Idly over puddles of
Desire. .... .Can this man with
Nimble finger-tips unleash
Nothing more alive than the
Skin's lazy hungers? Who can
Help us who have lived so long
And have failed in love? The heart,
An empty cistern, waiting
Through long hours, fills itself
With coiling snakes of silence. .....
I am a freak. It's only
To save my face, I flaunt, at
Times, a grand, flamboyant lust.
The Freaks
About the poet
Kamala Das
Kamala Das (born Kamala; 31 March 1934 – 31 May 2009), popularly known by her one-time pen name Madhavikutty and married name Kamala Das, was an Indian English poet as well as a leading Malayalam author from Kerala, India. Her popularity in Kerala is based ch…
View profile & all 15 Poems / StoriesMore from Kamala Das
The Testing Of The Sirens
The night, dark-cloaked like a procuress, broughthim to me, willing, light as a shadow,
Forest Fire
Of late I have begun to feel a hungerTo take in with greed, like a forest fire that
The Rain
We left that old ungainly houseWhen my dog died there, after
The Stone Age
Fond husband, ancient settler in the mind,Old fat spider, weaving webs of bewilderment,
The Sunshine Cat
They did this to her, the men who know her, the manShe loved, who loved her not enough, being selfish
