What are hands ?

They are legs that stopped running

They are feet forgetting to kick or climb

They are feet sometimes

Tapping the cot in rhythm

They are hands with live skin

And absent  Achilles

They are clubs who grew flat

And arches curling inwards

Feet shrinking to the size

Of a heart

What are fingers ?

They are tongues with spine

And no saliva, but

They don’t speak in common

Dialect , they don’t use nails

They cling…..

Their rings stop tickles

They have become toes

Rigid , responding to gravity

To hold on , carry the burden

Of reluctance

What is mouth ?

A hole making noise

A well drowning prayers

To forbidden Gods

A flower with colored

petals , sucked again

By one male tongue.

A nose is a projection

of the face

Crushed to smell

Your scent

Neck is a hollow of a tree

Where some little bird

Nuzzles , softness of small

delicate feathers

Linger after the flight

Eyes are ponds with


Don’t look up or down

Only with in they

are not shy

always serious

They are’nt oasis

They don’t spill

or waste saline

water or pearls

Stagnant waters

Have the soot of kajal

A remnant of the darkness


To define a shape to

the wandering gaze

For you to know that

contours can be altered

They can write a butterfly

Script on your drumming chest

Head is just a chin

Swollen with injured pride

With tired wings called cheeks

They rarely fly

in to a smile

Below the neck all else

is more silent ,

They resist verbal translations

Not accessible to my tongue

Just soft warm ordinary body

parts of a woman

Nothing may surprise

Oh ….I can not comment on the response

Astrologers don’t predict

Transcendence nor selfishness

In such depth

Taking ?

Or giving ?

Eternal confusion of fusion

Imaginary confusion ……