You, My Love
You smell
Of Friday, fishbones and fenugreek
Fermented mustard, cumin, a dash of cayenne pepper
Overlaid polished pebbles, toughening gleaming, oiled leather
You feel
Like motor oil, grit under fingernails
Sawdust and grease layer soft skin
Folds of it speckle with sweat pheromonal
Sweet, sour, electric, multi-tonal
You pulse
Chaotic jazz, a drumbeat feral
A war gong atavistic, jumping fences
Galloping stallion, wild, majestic
Push past all notional defenses
You taste
Like nibbling things
cherries and dried salt sweet cranberries
Chocolate darker than my dyed soul
Mixed milk and saffron in a honeyed bowl
For you, my love
No aphorism or apothegm would, could ever suffice
The layers of you from day to night
Beggar definition by wont of will
My every-flavored morning, afternoon, nightly pill
by Aparna Sanyal
Editor’s Note: The imagery in this poem functions as a series of metaphors for love, because some emotions can only be fully described via comparison (and often even that is not enough).
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