Without Euphoria

© 2003 Rajat Mahapatra
All rights reserved.

Where is the glint that seizes
my eyes drenched in deceit?

This scene ends with a knife.
Nobody gets hurt,
only some lucid fear hangs
from the gravity of jealousy.

The defeat holds me down;
my religion is betrayal.
I am drawn to plots of love
like gossamer attraction of dreams
sliding along trim verbs.

I whisper love to them
that shout me down.
With dialogues I become
your ridicule, your teeth grin
without euphoria. The night
is a fetish for distance;
we work up with desire.

A flower forms a fear.
A darkness forms a lash.
A strange electric feeling grows in me.

Similes subvert the jokes
that describe our wants;
stupidity surrounds the weakness
of our bond with feeble trust.

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