Aparna Eswaran Poems

The wheels of the windmill
try and make a revolution,
but half way through, at its pinnacle,
it retreats retracing its path.
...

Yes we had made love,
and perhaps became one
for a fragment
of those splintered orgasms,
...

Sediments of uncertain feelings
of you
incubated inside me sterile
and broke out in violent rashes
...

You plundered my soul, gagged me into silence,
You drew lines and asked me to stay within,
My skin was never fair enough, my eyes not big
My history was an exotic song
...