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A Pillow Named Desire by Ribhu


Photo by Yuris Alhumaydy

On my 26 x 39 (inches) bed lies a pillow – mushy and white – named ‘Desire’ on which my head sinks once a day or night, sometimes twice when you shed your eyes of negligence at me.

The pillow cover – 17 x 26 (inches) – made of wrinkled cotton has small, three-petal purple flowers printed on it, that droop when you let your well-crafted features not sink into my sight – a tease that you are; only salty tears to revive them at night?

You are a post-midnight snack dipped in vinegar – a little of soya-sauce and sesame oil to coat you up; would you not let me have a bite of your flavoursome existence –

only then would I be able to sleep well – my head sunk into oblivion on my 17 x 26 (inches) pillow named ‘Desire’.

My 26 x 39 (inches) bed may not have enough space for you, but I have learnt to live in a compromising manner – I would crawl up a bit and make space for you so that we both can lie-down and let the seasons pass – monsoon to autumn, autumn to winter, winter to spring, and spring to summer.

When summer comes next year, we shall get up from my 26 x 39 (inches) bed and comb our hair, have a light breakfast; I may perhaps smoke a cigarette or two, and then we shall part our ways.

And when you leave my house, it shall become a shrine for lovers who walk hand-in-hand, stop by in mornings, afternoons, and evenings, to offer freshly-bloomed daisies to my pillow named ‘Desire’ which has the shape of our heads imprinted – seasons of love well-spent.

 
 
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