I Know What (s)he's Thinking

know what he’s thinking as he walks by…

 

The click-clack against the pavement,

The trotting echo that calls to his ear,

Who then whisper to his eye.

Their gaze hypnotized by the phallic hooves

Which cradle the ascending flesh.

And like I am a kinetic sculpture,

His gaze follows my limbs in entertained glee

Just as the artistic critics before him had done.

The flesh of my legs teasing him as they climb,

Disappointed, but even more eager

When the linen begins to shield my curves.

Saccades display his indecisiveness.

Which mountain of my nature shall he conquer first?

 

The night is as young as we,

Though only I am as old as the hills.

The kinetic sculptures around me

Are apparently ringmasters, as well.

Making use of boisterous hyperbole

That would offend Gaia in every right.

They are owed claim to the spectators,

 The elongated coverts of their upper tails.

It is these peahens’ trains that call notice.

Intentionality as visible as the magnificence of color.

Their proud coverts, always darting eyes

To steal a glimpse, even they themselves are thieves

Robbing every reflection they pass

At every chance they get.

But their grand tails are iridescent,

Each angle tells a different truth.

 

Not for the sake of beauty,

No my friend, not as a butterfly’s tender wings

Throw rainbows across the sky as they flutter.

Not as a seashell glistens diamond wavelengths

Beneath the waters kiss.

No, this iridescence is insidious,

Manipulative, a weapon concealed.

Trickery to lure the red cloak,

“Oh my, what big secrets you have”

All the better to fool you, my dear.

I blend amongst the colors,

Indeed the feathers look like my own,

But a closer look would reveal

The origins of my wings.

Barely visible, they are humble,

Not asking to be seen.

And if he followed my curves past my breasts

He would find one more arch.

The slope of my shoulders

Which often pull me forwards,

Accentuates my backside.

And if you are attentive enough,

To take notice to where on my back,  

Lay my shoulder blades, for

At either side they weep pitiful feathers,

That are nonetheless, one color.

 

 Yes if he bothered to follow his gaze through,

He may catch a glimpse

Of the windows to my soul.

He may meet the pair

Who sing the lyrics to my life.

Yes, a little bit higher,

And he may see the mountains

That rest beneath my eyes

When my song has been sung

And a piece of joy breaks across my face.

 

But critic number umpteen,

Who will see me as the same,

The oldest profession,    

Called by every other name…

Best believe as you walk by

I will offer none of my shame,

You shall meet Medusas eye

But I won’t be to blame.

 

 

 

 

I know what she’s thinking as I walk by,

When the click-clack calls to my ears.

 My eyes they fall upon the place

That I’ve worshipped for so many years.

 

And her temple moves like music,

My eyes dance upon her flow,

And I swear I intend no intrusion

But I know her from some time long ago.

And as our eyes lock with nuclear fusion,

My iris tries to let her know:

 

                                  

Perhaps it was the time you we born of swans,

And your beauty was known far and wide.

When the auction block beneath your feet

Gave you Sparta but stole your pride.

 

When I named Aphrodite’s beauty,

To gain rights to your hand,

Earned the wrath of Athena and Hera

And declared war on your land.

 

Stole you in my rightful mind,

The face that launched a thousand ships.

But you knew just as well as I

 The ancient love left on our lips.

 

 

For surely you can recall

My unquestioned love for thee,

As we shared the throne of passion

During the Mughal Dynasty.

 

Even in your present life,

As I know that within mine,

I still feel your velvet skin

From past limbs intertwined.

 

Inside your temple I found my home,

But perhaps there be not enough room,

For I planted the seed that stole my love

When she killed you from the womb.

 

And I found myself back in Troy

On the eve’ of their redemption,

When they returned to steal my heart

With no intention of exemption.

 

But if somehow it slipped your mind,

The marble memory stands tall.

A jewel in Agra holds my heart,

As you rest in Taj Mahal.

 

Two decades nursing perfection,

Homage to your beauty,

And I shall wait till’ our next life

To continue my eternal duty.

 

 

As I stand this modern ground

Converging souls once more,

I fear to hold my eyes on you-

Throbbing lessons from before.

 

I still hear the melodies

Soaring from my chords,

Setting slumber on six ears,

Slicing silence like a sword.

 

Yes every note played of this tune

Is etched inside my mind,

Now I know we can’t always keep

The precious gems we find.

 

And Hades knew the irony

When he forbid my gaze,

For the Sun itself cannot rise

Without watching the days.

 

So how was I to be sure

The reason that I breathe,

Wasn’t falling far behind

The Underworld we leave.

 

Chin to shoulder, pupil to corner

Please tell me I’ve gone blind,

Or throw my soul into the place

Where my heart will beat in time.

 

 

 

 

I suppose you caught it then,

For here my heart I meet,

Destroy the miles of our divide

With every second-swallowed beat.

Don’t look like you are so surprised,

You know it to be our destiny,

You know that from the dawn of time

You’ve had the best of me.

We really didn’t have a choice,

We’ve known it from the start,

When I met you in the nucleus

And we were one, not two apart.

 

 

 

 

I Know what he’s thinking as he walks by…

He’s thinking: “I know what she’s thinking as she walks by”

And his own answer is: “She’s thinking: ‘I know what he’s thinking as he walks by”

We’re both thinking"it’s about time.

 

He found his way to my eyes.

He always did, he always would.

A smile played across his lips,

Mocking the snakes in my hair,

Singing them to serpent sleep,

The Orpheus I Know.

My hooves stop clicking,

The birds take flight,

They’ll think I’m still flapping behind.

And as we both fuse the

Thousand millimeters that divide,

I’ve found my place again.

I haven’t forgotten,

Nor am I as bewildered as my pulse,

But does the tree not miss her leaves

Come the closing act of fall?

And don’t the harsh and cold

Days of winter

Leave her bare limbs in agony?

Even if she is certain of their return,

The groundhogs shadow

Is a temptress for despair.

 

I feared I was losing face,

Until he found it with his eyes.

Until he sung his song onto my lips

And sent their corners jumping with joy.

And the joy climbed the mountains,

Resting beneath my eyes

Like the sun hiding behind the hills,

No doubt, they are hills from the east.

 

He need not wait for a reply,

The soil beneath our feet

Sews the same seeds

As the land of Troy or Sparta,

When he found me

A prisoner to Menelaus.

And the Trojan war at my hands

Was no different

Than the violent war in our hearts

When his fourteenth seed

Forced up apart.

And these peahens that dim my light

And suffocate my soul,

Are the same treacherous creatures

As the three-headed beast

That guarded Hades door.

Well, perhaps they differ somewhat,

The peahens are only faces of two.

 

And we could run together back in time

Through every age, kingdom, and dawn,

And we would find a place in the Universe

Where she called upon the mesons

To fuse our paths once more.

For you see, the Universe is in debt

To both him and I.

For we were the initial conditions,

From which her life was bred.

13.9 billion years before this moment,

When the primeval atom

Echoed into existence,

Obliterating every frequency and timbre

That never existed.

When I was quarks and he was gluons,

When I was protons and he was neutrons,

And the meson particles pledged eternal allegiance.

Yes, the nuclear force that bound us

From the breath’s first breath of life,

Only wavered when our atom changed

For we were always the same nucleon.

The first and smallest forms of matter,

Him and I, of course we’re bound.

And the meson force of love,

Is only lost, but always found.

 

We are indivisible:

Helen and Paris

Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal,

Orpheus and Eurydice,

Matter and Substance,

An entity unto itself.

 

I know what he’s thinking.

I know what she’s thinking.

Where have you been all this life?

 

Reviews

[Siddhartha]

As always. The timelessness of love. Of two souls uniting, and parting only to reunite at a different place; at a different time. There is a force here beyond human comprehension, that plays its act over and over again. And we, who believe that we are masters of our own destinies sometimes have to yield ourselves to the cosmos.