It is a Russian dish, they say.
A plate of two diecious moons
Rising on different waters.
They reflected a common bond:
The mushroom sauce that
Goes with anything unmushroomy.
One side was a pile of rice,
Yellow fleshy seedlings, brown
Chunky gravy for headtops.
They mountained over like uneven Alps.
They kissed the air, like good army boys
And rose their spice to dance firely
Within me. They spoke a foreign tongue,
That deciphered itself in my mouth.
The credibility lies somewhere my love, but try
Finding a speck of truth in a death full of lies.
It was painful to hear its story,
The way it winces and rolls over to convince you.
Being genuine is something special, sacred.
It canít be too hard. Just when my fork
Scooped up a bite, the lambs started hooing.
They were in juicy threes, each with
A bone and a bit of marinated flesh.
They smelled like grazed greenlands.
It is something else with mint sauce
But I hate it. Truthness lies somewhere
In the nervous system of its body,
That is bloodless and tender. They too, attempted
To lull me with an anecdote, fallibly in its juices.
The grain and meat are proud godfood
with histories tailing like dreams.
Whom should I consume and believe? They
Withered and tempted me like a candystore does
To bored children. It is too agonizing, Iíve become
The middle woman. Two moons, jaundiced and stony
Stared back boney, and sick. The overcrowded trash
Had acquainted two odd friends that night.
15 - 22 Sept 2002
My Dear Friends
Jordan Leon Kostka
Our friendship has taken on
a new meaning
Years have flown since we last
exchanged stories, cried together
What matters most
is that we know
we will always have each other
All of you
will always be my friends
NILA, 1 May 2003
Whatever may come
Iíll accept it.
Thereís no use fighting
Against anything pre-destined.
Every word now rings in my ear,
Rude and slurring.
They echo repeatedly
Like an important news.
Maybe there is a reason for this.
All this while, you were my rightness,
My flawless god-like statue.
But nobody is perfect and nothing is,
And Iíve come to accept that thoroughly
Because I simply have no other choice.
The phone rings and I answer it just to hear
Your heavily-panting lover hang up.
26 March 2003
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Kavya, June 2003