By Kalyani Bindu
You leave traces of your meek presence
in the grotto of my inner eye -
lackluster remnants of time.
My lungs silently detonate in an asthmatic swell.
Fetishes return as you materialize.
A shadow burns my back.
The blue drone in your mouth is a fly in my eyes.
Hands pierce a river of plasma.
Our napes sing a transcendental song.
You leave traces of a lonely muse,
harpooning fugitive presences.