I could wish
that I had not
seen him again.
Three weeks since we first parted;
I stole a day to spend in the lush
pleasure of his smile and
skin and lips touching my forehead
and fond protestations; only bliss
one would think, and yet
it was not quite as I remembered, so
where before there was the
firm assurance of love a
twisting tiny canker now hides,
born from no word nor deed I
can pin a name to, but there
nonetheless and I cannot help
but wonder if I noticed something
true without understanding…
if so, I’d almost rather have the lies.
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
September 11, 1996