Face Poem by Sushruta Mishra

Brittle drops of rain caressed her cheek-bones;
they made their way down the mountain valleys;
the mountains, quivering in red; her luscious lips.

The dark cloud, harbinger of rain, of winds and sadness,
the irresistible glint, irrevocably lost forever.
Tethered over those two shinning Suns; Her eyes,
and, those satanic dark clouds; her eye-brows.

Twisters and tiny tornadoes, wafts and breezes;
they blow thorough those dark caves, scattered
tiny splashes of slimy dirt strewn all over; her nostrils.

Swampy marsh-lands, rugged and eternally moist,
floating uncertain within and contorting into sounds,
Pregnant with words that soothe; her tongue.

Well, the Rain?
She cried and it rained on her face.
It's all the same they said. It's all the same.