The floodgates of your memory
overflow across my heat-ridden land
heralding the monsoon.
With unending ardour and foaming insolence
memory covers my earth with potholes.
It crumples and throws away early mornings
full of boredom, as though the same day
were to be endured a thousand times over.
Like light it tunnels its way into the cave.
I’m aware of its hissing anger but
I scoop it up with scorched hands and drink.
My gaze wanders through tall trees,
alighting with joy
on a wondrous kurinchi flower.
Let not our parting
blast through the horizon.
May the force of our love
leap like a bird whose wings
will never be caught in a net.
Every spilt drop of it may one day
touch the very womb of the sea.
The flood of your memory
opens the sluice gate of my vagina.