Being 5 Poem by Prathibha Nandakumar

And they award you for deconstruction!

Design thearies desert you to tackle
the slopping roof realities without a column support of
decomposition. You wake up to a morning of
steel frames and blinding glass. Paint red,
whispers the colour goddess. You obey.
Plan from the pavement and reach the sanctum sanctorum.
Hidden well within the darkness of the soul
the smooth sand stones carve carnel appetite.
You talk of Neelanjane, the dancer who dies to
give someone Nirvana, lives again to kill an
otherwise exciting evening.

Forbidden to talk of love,
physical, emotional, platonic, puritan,
I resort to the discussion of the redefinig
of squares and rectangles.

Deconstruction be dammed,
who says arousal has a definition?