Mirror Dance

Her big eyes bordered with kohl
made blackness dance with other colors,
without much harmony and with charm
Her native plaits hurried
lifeless flowers into effusive steps
Rapt, I watched her rapturous
bangles become carousels of pure passion
on her jewel-girt arms
An ornamented navel, a moon
fluttering on an angry sea,
like sacred rice
on a twisting plate
Her reed-like hips winding,
faltering, lingering, whirring in delirium
Seductive expressions
Jingling toes ravished with delight,
belly celestially panting,
bosom echoing bridal heartbeats
Body swaying and swinging to the
magical serpent-like flute
Her feet bending like weeds
billowing in a serenading wind
Long fingers and hands now
like swans gliding on a smooth lake
now like a cobra ready to sting
then like hungry crocodiles
she hosted the feast of her beauty
and fed my glassy eyes

Amit Parmessur, for someone who hated poetry has been accepted for the past six months by over 65 magazines, including Ann Arbor Review, Burnt Bridge, Calliope Nerve, Catapult to Mars, Clockwise Cat, Clutching at Straws, Damazine, Gloom Cupboard, Heavy Hands Ink, LITSNACK, Mad Swirl, Red Fez, The Literary Burlesque, Shot Glass Journal, and The Scrambler. As long as he gets published he knows that he is going in the right direction.

Find more by Amit Parmessur in the Author Index.

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