This evening, at the temple fair,
I wanted you to notice, my love,
the beads of sweat trickling
down my stomach and the kohl-smeared
blackness of my eyes, caught unawares
As I bargained for a trinket.
I wondered if your arms smelled
like the land you tilled, fragrant in its fullness,
your smile made my heart beat faster, enraptured.
My feet, covered with dust, scurried along-
Wanting to touch yours, toe to toe.
My skin, brown like the face of the earth,
throbbed like the barren one, dearest,
waiting for the rain; my bosom heaving
to the pulse of the breeze; so now I ask
shamelessly onto your face, my love…
Will you be my rain?
Would your love engulf my body even as your eyes do my soul?
Answer me, Don’t my lips speak desire?