Begs for Rain

The Begging Rain

Afterwards,
When I am not with you
and you are alone enough
to count the nails in your heart,
tough and studded like a treasure-house door,
When you arranged your silences
in the vase of an hour
balancing the bouquet with memories
of hands held,
a spike of laughter
and the color of my eyes
When you sit within the swell
of your heart beat
and the purple tide of day dream
laps at the share of all your selves,
and your skin sings, perfumes – pierced,
Afterwards,
surrender to this thought of me
as the mimosas of Maharastra in May
long as monsoon
I long for you;
as the crimson cactus flowers of Thar
long for full moon
I long for you;
and in all my afterwards,
when I am not with you
my heart turns toward the window of my life
and begs for rain..