To the Anonymous

I met you once in mystic twilight
By the make shift road side shack
Silver beams of the waxing moon
Draped your naive coyness
The stars braided in locks carefree
Wove an eternal lore
A gypsy, in celestial guise.

I met you again in nocturnal gloom
Your eyes flashing fury of impotence
A helpless prey shredded in the grove
You lay stung, scathed, shattered.
Dishevelled locks, pleading palms
Barely could shield you
A lust sculpted frame.
Claws, teeth, fangs propelled
By primitive desire
Suck life out of each burning cell,
Each fiery brutal breath
Scorch the sieve full of water
From river Tiber.

Solitary muteness of the morning star afar
Harsh as untold truth
Bower the path profane
In a soliloquy to the listening quietude.

Amita Ray is a retired Associate Professor in English and Vice-Principal of a college in West Bengal. She has several academic publications to her credit. An academic career spanning over thirty-seven odd years has given her the insight and critical acumen to engage extensively into literary activities and leave footprints behind. Read other articles by Amita.