First Seven Poem by Muthu Krishnan

We look for ways 
To clog together soak together;

After the first seven we realised 
It were all nothing but reasons;

Reasons illusioned as love 
We thought;

We knew the end and yet we 
Played;

Mutually enacted involuntarily 
As we never knew;

My hands on her shoulders,
The smile she gave as sharp 
As a sword;

The flock of her hair seemed to 
Me like a golden waterfall;

She moved with her slender 
Body in her coat,
my arms made of iron,
Wrapped her hips;

We walked around the meadows,
Which was as luminant as the radium;

Yet days passed,
Yet we still knew;

There it seems normal,
As the autumn wind;

It passed through,
I look upon the first seven;