Our Bed by Aparna Sanyal


Art by Navin Kumar Kushwah

Spice, perfume, fresh clean soap and water

foams and trickles richly down

your loamy curves as 

you ready for the coming day. 

I lay in a wild stupor on messed fragrant sheets 

wrinkled with the impression of your form. 

I soak in scents rich with nutrients 

that poured from your skin,

grew in your sweat-

they now bathe mine. 

Each breath I take is fortification,

a masterclass of rejuvenation- this is 

how I ready for the coming day. 

Outside, ants mould red mud into 

intricate homes. Inside, 

my skin is clay.

You roll, leaven, make dark caves, 

through which, my soul radiates. 

Dew drops form at the core of palm fronds 

that would be our bed- without the thin mesh 

that keeps

insects, foliage at bay.

Smudged lanterns of light pool at 

corners and angles, 

remind us that beyond our cocoon 

of flickering moonlight, 

of spangly, wild starlight, 

is an eager new sun.

Our bed is lush, 

velveteen- 

still ready, still waiting.

It invites the universe to come and play 

again 

This drenched morning,

this bright day. 

 
 

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