From the barn, she could
hear the music of her
debut ball. But she would
rather brush the horses, the scent
of musk to the sweet tang
of perfume. But she
was not alone. He stood
by the entryway, someone
from the past, someone she saw
visiting one night, when
as a child, she sat by the banister
when he expected her asleep
someone who did not age
with a smooth, opal face
fully aware she had caught
him unaware. His insignia ring
catching the light of the bitten
moon. Now, he moves
Towards her and bows
realising, in her fallow
heart this was the Lord
of Ogrencisi, her guardian.
She bowed in return
and kissed his ring.
They danced the waltz
He was a large man
and she was forced
to twirl, back
to a sheaf of hay
where she landed, and was pulled up
to kiss her neck with a bite
that left her, hungry for blood.
In The Forest of Goa
In the forest of Goa
lives the caretaker
abandoned with
the house to keep.
the pandemic came
and so, there was no food
but for the fruits of forest.
He picked the pawpaw fruits
and set an elegant meal
for himself.
At night he could hear
the wailing of women
bereaved of husband,
Child or parent.
He left some open;
Pawpaw fruits
On large stones outside
The house
For the spirits of the dead
in passage through the night.
The next morning.
The stones were empty.
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