Bazi alis Subrata Ray
The Other Beyond The Screen.
My boy- friends and husband,
With different passports,
Cross the boarder and take my land,
My home, I admit, accommodate rooms,
As if the groom in the bed lock grand.
My soil I feel needs bottom –stirred plough,
While all the casual farmers retire from surface,
My secret Other quake the buried volcano,
And grind my satiety to saturated trance.
I render no confession but the flame of the Fire,
The switched strokes of lightening thunder,
I will the whirl of Tsunami’s wonder.
My secluded occult Other, sends my senses to sleep,
And with His touch infinite I rises from measureless –deep!
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