Sin Collector
Collecting sins in old bottles, the days reach out and drop them in like pebbles, still smelling of fond river beds. Yesterday, it was the temptation of an improbable love, too big to fit into that slim hipped flask, but sin is pliable, twists and changes as it is gathered, as we change its name, change its colour, make it bearable in the morning. When all those hours, all those words, all that feel of skin on skin has been corked, when the bottles fill the shelves and rooms and toss and turn on the breasts of the tides, when everything has been cleansed and bathed and the rain never stops falling, tell me then, when did love become a mistake. Rajani Radhakrishnan Rajani Radhakrishnan: "I am from Bangalore, India and post my work on thotpurge.wordpress.com. Some of my poems have recently been featured in The Calamus Journal, Quiet Letter, Visual Verse and Parentheses Journal."
2 Comments
3/29/2018 06:25:04 am
What an original transformation of the art! I love this from the surprising title and lusty word choice to that final haunting question. This poem will stay with me. I picked it up from a blogger and will pass it along to others.
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