by Sanchari Sur
I want to wear
your voice in my heart, string your
words into jasmine garlands,
your perfume, lingering
in my hair, immortal.
I want to swallow
your secrets, a daring
sword swallower, hold in the
pinpoint sharpness in the pit of
my belly, their twists and turns keeping
my inner masochist alive.
I want to surrender
my soul in shreds, while you
play king and choose
which of me to keep, and which
to annihilate.
If only you knew, lover, how you
make me writhe with longing and rage,
how you gorge me whole and spit me out,
how you are my pleasure and my
pain, my ultimate
sublime.