Love’s Nest

by Prakash Kona

I

Love’s nests are built by the art of putting twigs together stolen from birds.

Migrant laborers return from spaces where they work for survival. When they speak of returning home they mean lying in a love’s nest until morning.

I want no home for my own. I built my nest in your heart that flies from hill to horizon back to the hill. Your love nestles everywhere. Homeless is that heart of yours but that is my home.

In the fatal embrace of lovers we discover our homes in the warmth of each other’s faces.

The nest shelters from sad raindrops falling on your eyes and my head in your lap. The bodies of lovers never part. They remain in nests for lover or beloved to come back into the arms of the other.

Love is your body that crosses mine like pencil marks on a page gently wiped out by an eraser. On the page of my life is your body. All the pencil marks add up to the point where they eternally diverge from one another. At the point of divergence my life becomes one with your body.

I need your lips on my neck. We coil into one another. A tree with branches opening to the sky. The sky filling the bosom of the tree. The tree nestling against the sky. In your belly is a button. I press the button to reach the home I come to sleep.

I imagined before it happened. I make my nest in the thoughts of the sleeper. The sleeper is one among infinite other bodies. The sleeper is infinite in one body.

II

I hugged the body with the strength of my arms. Will that body remember me when I’m gone?

I felt each part of the body with my lips. Will that body forgive my lips for daring to feel?

I composed music for lips on a soul inside a body. Will music produce the passion of a palm tree when lovers meet at dusk?

I was alone inside you sharing the loneliness of your innermost self. Will you make me a slave of that dark region that does not allow words to enter?

I battled with jealous ghosts in fear that I might lose you. Will death spare my soul the memory of your caress?

I ran from mirror to mirror in outstanding places for the hem of your shadow. Will your shadow smile into my eyes with pity?

I wondered if a word is what makes something beautiful or something is beautiful before the word knows it. Will you let my words pass over your body like dew from the sky?

I drank from the cup of bitter sweetness the waters of a tap made for the mouths of children celebrating their long gestation in the womb. Will the cup teach me to endure moments of your absence?

I longed for the littleness of a bonsai that I may be in the room of your heart. Will you expand your heart to accommodate a stranger that speaks in the tongue of the intoxicated?

I turn in bed that night may pass and morning break the monotony of a restless body. Will this body be patient when it sees you uncoiling from the hibernation of a long night away from dreams?

I dug the grave of my early youth for words I used that came to end in a romantic nothing. That was how the world of light looked to me. Darkness is thicker than light. The smell of sweat in a glimmer. I am in love with a vase I’ve never seen. Blood is water mingled with time. May my blood disseminate to the sea, mingle into the blood of the one I love.


Copyright © 2010 by Prakash Kona

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