Daipayan Nair writes

Midnight Installations

Midnight's a woman's forgotten face,

P of nothingness butchered in half

Clock ticking a primal love, holding hands in a rubble

Warmth of kiss takes a minute 

Sting of nipple bite(s), a second

Explosion takes a second

Night walls, black smokes post-war

What attacks is the wind through a window, 

What takes away is the same

The very next air of a burnt rose,

Silent in its being, silent with its death in mine

The day, the feet stepped on the road,

Trees of compassion stood nearby 

How one erases his trails in his own disappearance

Which skeleton hasn't delivered love like an unexpected visitor

On a chilled breeze night

Ghost's love for midnight

Love's a time bomb making the bone(s) explode,

Others die much before

My room floats, just like another bubble in the sky, 

Another bubble in a glass, 

Living longer than usual, clinging to a self uselessness

My house, another bottle, clinging to its forgotten throat(s)

They're alive only at midnights

Deeper midnights have been there, are still there

The Sun governed a dark monsoon

Lost sons of love gave lost sons of war 

Love should have either been

A concentrated war-strategic night 

Or the collective cannon-hole decision at midnight

Night calls love lost and found, a platonic love,

Love within life but beyond death,

Love of the poor 

Or a mad love, I'm in, drilling black holes into every wall

Midnight has a silent cry,

In choosing between two insanities,

Allowance of breast(s) be pressed,

Its dubious scream

Can night reach death without midnight?

I watch my front door 

The one, many prefer, to enter narrowness

Its chopped goat head in red

Love's way of smiling after enclosed resistances,

Of staying in the middle

I admit, heaven has its own hell

Hell, its bigger heaven.

 

 The Ash -- Ars Thanea