The Other Woman Poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri

Her white-washed house, on the town's edge,
Was warm and luminous in the evenings
Her window-shades hosted dancing phantoms.
The hibiscus tree in her backyard yielded
Deep dark red flowers meant for worship.
She complained of green snakes, now and then,
These green snakes, they do not harm.
Children played in the compound, collecting
Warm twigs for the ensuing festival bonfire
During the festival, colorfully caparisoned bulls
Came accompanied by frenzied drumbeats.
Love was truly a splendorous thing
Behind closed doors and drawn curtains.
Colored bangles broke piercing her wrist
And the muscular elevation of his chest.
At dusk light cream-colored mosquito-nets
Hid shadows coalescing into each other.
Outside the window, the autumn leaves fell
One after the other, carpeting the garden floor.
The fat book on the table opened its mouth
With wide-eyed wonder at the trellis of shadows
On the marble floor cast by the chandeliers.
At night she burrowed her face in the pillow
As they dreamed together their joint dreams
And some times their separate dreams.
Green snakes haunted her dreams, slithering
All over her, dropping from the hibiscus
Of course they do not harm, these green snakes
But their slither-feel is so much disagreeable
And they merge so effortlessly in her shadows.