by Gopikrishnan Kottoor
The same woman appears in different dreams.
She parts her hair in so many turquoise ways.
It is always the same woman.
In late spring, she returns all the fallen rains,
Unrained.
Upon the precipice
She is the white bird on the leafless bough.
On the single rock weathered in crying tides
The water forms into her love swelled bosom
And falls down scattering the many colored fish.
The same woman, always the same woman,
She wanders in different streams,
Appears in different dreams,
In the nights, she paints darkness to a curve.
All the different women;
They burn in her flame.
From:
The Zong
Copyright ©:
Gopikrishnan Kottoor
Last updated May 28, 2012