Woman in Love

She'll brush your hair in
Slow motion and caress you
Into submission with her
Unsung lullabies.

She'll cut a pomegranate
On sunny afternoons,
And seed-by-seed feed
You by teasing you first.

She'll wear your formal
Shirt with proper tuck-in
And shoes, make herself
A moustache by pulling front

Her long strands of hair,
And will salute in attention
With a hard thump off
The right leg, to imitate you.

This woman in love, who
Can't write poems but is
Poetic enough-
With her carrot halwa and

Masala dosa, with a mouth
That always blabbers-
This woman in love wants you
To pretend like you're a kid.

But your un-shavable beard
Doesn't let you fiddle with
Your own innocence, and this
Absentee intimacy is

The bone of contention
In the bed.