The Spirit Of Time Made Me Fond Of Amorous Sports Poem by SRIRANJI ARATISANKAR

The curtain swinging...
Who? Who? Who?
Anybody is there?
None. But Wind...
The night screwing the world
with aerial roots of an invisible banyan tree.
Just in the nick of time ultra-colour
rushing speedily like a piercing horned ox.
Just in the nick of time to hide shameful oozing of semen
the saint got down into the water.
This is the high time or your arrival.
I'm the deported.
The spirit of time made me fond of amorous sports.