SWEATING SAND

Thar’s sand dunes have
Hot bubbles of venom in its loins...
These are secreted with the spools of moonlit sweat
That dances down the forehead of a snake charmer, his
Legs curled like his pythons over his mistress...the polished
Silver of her cunt intoxicated with his sighs.
He has the scepter of
The desert in hand.
A hissing lizard and the stemmed brown, powdered
In his eyes. She smells the stories he carries through Udaipur and Ajmer,
Through the chilly incensed bazaars of Jodhpur. The insidiously masqueraded
Roads to Makrana, where once Mirabai flowered her madness for Krishna
And the honking of drunken trucks racing down to unknown towns. He has crept
Abundant tales in his one tepid breath...coated them with his dramatic zeal.
She rummages for some more granules of soil on his face, the scattered atlas of
Sun’s heat which has half marooned with dehydration...
She pours pots of water on his body, sluicing him in dreams of
Cool river jungles and immensity of her breasts. The aroma of wet leaves, pine wood..whorled
In her nipples..
He has to smell, he has to drink the flavored milks she boils.
The leaking run of her greed that he serves religiously, jamming
One, two, three fingers at once..raising her body
Like a grove of lilies stormed by winds. Her wrists breaking down like mud...waiting for more of him.
And she comes whirling down to the loins that generate the venom in Thar.
It is her man, she knows..
The snake charmer with ganja and cobras..Who breeds the thirst
She wrestles all day. It is the mirrored lakes on his member, splashing rivers into her...
The
Irrepressible vigor of his tongue that slithers like Shiva tasting Parvati...
Take away my bangles, take away everything.....she hollers
Repeatedly.....but just stay with me...
Paint my world with your candor, the sweetness of your touch. Let me be filled.
Don’t leave me thirsty in these sand dunes.....
I am too weak to resist this poison.