Rattapallax » Night Song

A flute playing in the night

echoing up from the gully

waves of breath and drone
over the river

the invitation was either

wet fingers into her mouth
bite off the tongue
and carry it home
in a pail of buttermilk

made of white wax
my warm skin / my latent breasts
yellowed with turmeric
& patterned
with beetle scratches

Then to sleep
and I felt these beautiful

sounds as a physical
stretching.