Shivangi Mariam

I see the sun setting between my legs,
its warmth descending
into the lips of the night.
The language of love-
...

At last loss has visited me,
She carries me in her throat tonight.

The night is a bed of tears frozen in time
...

when i think of your promise
of meeting me at the end of the world
blood curdles in my mouth
and my tongue keeps going back
...

i have bought the tickets
and i have watched the spectacle of your democracy.
so, now i declare it to be my right:
to sit in the theatre
...

i discovered deathlessness in a white house
which had clasped blue windows to its chest
they never spoke, the windows
always gaped at the skies where it never rained
...

there is no reason
this sorrow season
for a brown pastel to slip
upon the smouldering evening lip
...