A Poem by Amit Parmessur.
My mind slips into her soft sepals,
creeping along her petals
like ladyfingers frolicking on the keys of a grand piano.

I rest gently beside her
like a boy playing in Christmas snow
waiting for holy, miraculous lights.
I pull her leafy gown down, slowly,
during sunset, like a thirteenth century atheist     
turning the pages of a most sacred book.
My mind plays the guitar on her ribs
like a miner who has discovered
a cave with golden letters in a faraway forest.
Then I disappear from her thirsty eyes,
a guilty crab walking along a vast
beach at dusk, lest she will stick
to me like the tentacles of an octopus
holding onto a runaway boat.

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