AT THE MAUSOLEUM OF LOVE

At the mausoleum of love

on any given night

or day

the loved and the loving

bend low

touch ground

and memory rebirths

the beloved;

while the unloved

they pillage

in the manner of a nidan hora

assassinate again and again

desecrate again

heart and time.

Love eludes some,

and I wonder why they wonder why.

[from the collection 'Stray kites on string-less days']

LEAVE A COMMENT