Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 2, Number 1. May 2019. ISSN: 2581-7094
Mapping
the City
--- Ria Banerjee
Like a cartographer, I map the contours of my city along the curvatures of your body.
You
lock the turbulent waves of the Ganges in your careless tresses.
The strings of sweat that runs down your neck are like the rivulets that overflow during the monsoon; the kohl of your eyes reflects the pervasive darkness beneath the metallic temptations of the city.
The strings of sweat that runs down your neck are like the rivulets that overflow during the monsoon; the kohl of your eyes reflects the pervasive darkness beneath the metallic temptations of the city.
Your
cleavage is concealed precariously under a shawl- much like the city itself-
which thrives on a masquerading game of deception.
Your
bare back is like a vast stretch of land, colonized by my kisses.
Your
breasts harbour secrets like the tombs in the graveyard, housing unclaimed
corpses. Your dark naval leads to a feral wilderness of untapped energy that
lies at the heart of the city; it is through this rite of passage into the very
entrails of the city that I have learnt to rediscover you.
For all I know, I have charted my city already.
For all I know, I have charted my city already.
Montage
--- Ria Banerjee
My city is a montage of sequinned memories; it's by-lanes are like the milky- ways, where the lovers unite surreptitiously.
I
see the ships anchored to the ground as their masts are swept away by the
bracing breeze.
As
I stroll through the alleys at night, I can see the senile face of the
grandmother, spinning stories of love and war to amuse the grandkids; the
silence within the confines of a bedroom pierces through the silence of the
night.
My city has it's own idiom to bewitch.
It offers you both the whore and the wife.
It claims both the victor and the vanquished
My city has it's own idiom to bewitch.
It offers you both the whore and the wife.
It claims both the victor and the vanquished