(From my poetry
collection 'The Nameless Avenue')
Reflections
of a recent bride- hood
It’s
a mirror of rare registry;
the
lake brimming;
a
lantern’s wick flame dance reflecting from
the
hand of a recent bride,
dancing
down below
the
furling sheets,
wipes
off a
a
little corner
of
darkness in water.
She homes her buffaloes
back from the freedom
of the mountain
and adjoining woods
It’s
a little late;
just
enough to
boost
the impatience
of
her woodcutter.
A smile succulent
reviewed by her
own profile’s reflection,
how
she has been
trapped!
Lost
something
to
attain something,
to
respond, to revolt
to
yield, to possess,
how many new cares!.
By wedlock , a lock
of
lost keys
chased on forever
not alone in Velato.
Her
anklets jingle
as
her paces
grow
faster,
driving
echoes,
on
the route
to
silence.
Vaiyavan
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