rose water blues

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the teapot on the window ledge
moon drunk
believing;
she only looked at her
unknowing;
that someone filled the teapot with port
thinking;
it was tea.

the teapot drunken
so in love with the moon
gazes skyward
not knowing;
there’s no one here
to spoonfeed
roses by the galleon
no kiss to distill
a million hindi film songs

knowing
there will be no flowers
again;
today;
and tomorrow;
the next tomorrow;
and the next;
a law of physics.

the tea pot wonders flippant
but why! she laced the cream with roses
and whipped it into a frenzy

sitting quietly spartan
bowl in hand puritanical
shriveled berries startled by the buxom plump
spooning cream
tasting kisses forever gone
in clouds of tender cream
and the tongue remembers rose water
a whole book
a safely distant love.

Renuka Mendis
February 14, 2014

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