Devika Mathur spreads like butter
your skin is a lumberjack
my fingers pricking the whims of your touch,
a vacant room suspended on my white skin,
a chair of your voice,
screaming, aesthetic nerves of the saliva.
i enter your body like a prayer,
again and again with hand-picked chants.
like butter on bare body,
cold sheets of absent air
sitting on my nostrils like a forgotten star,
love fills the places of vacant walls,
and veins dissolving.
love does that all.
(if my title does not do the justice to the poetry, pardon me)