In love with me

Rancid atmosphere,
splays obsidian light on
cheekbones I promised
never to paint.
Bilingual melodies
unsung, my
frozen lips bequeath
tremors to invisible eyes

marking mirrors with sighs,
unkissed nakedness
haunting narcissus beauty of
funeral skies –
isotropic season aroused

in love with me.

©Mohana Das


26 thoughts on “In love with me

  1. Your poem has a strong sense of oppression, in the first stanza it hovers between whether it’s a promise the narrator made to others vs. to herself to not paint/not sing those melodies. The slide from the fear in this stanza to the eroticism of the 2nd is eerie. (I love the narcissus! and you sent me to the dictionary to get me some isotropic.)

  2. There is a sense of innocence here. It’s almost as if the love is a threat to something untouched and pure.
    “cheekbones I promised
    never to paint”
    I love this line…
    “Isotropic season aroused”

  3. Curious little piece. Has had me read back through it a couple times no, to fully flesh out its vision of meaning in my mind. A lovely dose of imagery to be sure, and a haunting yet intriguing engagement all around, particularly with such well-crafted bits as “isotropic season around” – gets the mind stirring with interpretations.

  4. Thank you so much!!
    I am sorry, I should have left an footnote to it. I was writing about the weather yesterday. It was cloudy, foggy, very sickly yellow, and fogs in the afternoon is rare in the tropics. I was alone at home, and the atmosphere appeared haunted…kind of eerie, with that sad, caustic funeral appearance. I write “isotropic” for the uniform facelessness of the day. And everytime I looked at myself in the mirror, I had a feeling as if there were lots of invisible eyes staring straight at me, hence the word, “unkissed.”

  5. I like the way you break the lines in unpredictable spots. Meaning shifted, my expectations shifted … it made reading a more interactive experience and kept me paying attention to every little detail. Rather like inspecting one’s face in the mirror.

  6. This is a delicate and well-crafted piece of description with a fine under layer of uneasy emotion. I especially like the way you’ve packed the short phrases–‘bilingual melodies unsung,’ for instance, and ‘marking mirrors with sighs.’ very evocative. Loved it.

  7. This is layered with ambiguity. Shifting like shadows throughout the poem as it becomes very “painterly”. The idea of Narcissus thrown into the mix was a little unusual, but in the sense of solitude and fog, it makes perfect sense. Well done.

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