by Shikha Malaviya
In your fruit we find
a lover’s tart kiss, magenta lipstick
as we gather you by the fistfuls
conspiring dreams beyond
glass studded boundary walls
a doctor’s white coat, a poet’s fountain pen
In your shade we offer morning prayers
to Saraswati, the goddess of learning
daya kar daan vidya ka, hamein parmatma dena
it is from Her mercy that we receive this knowledge
of tiny seeds housed below our bellies
and how we must guard them zealously
by crossing our legs. Hungry & young
we hold your fruit in our palms
salty with sweat, our lips parched
from desert dust that water doesn’t quench
nibbling on your flesh, we spit out seeds
into sand from which nothing sprouts
*Jamun-Java plum/Indian blackberry; a sweet yet tart fruit that leaves a purple stain when eaten
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