Geography

by Anil

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In an instant
I’m plunged into
the old roaring of words
that fell from the soaring heights of
our eyes
to land like rainbow colored mist between
our toes.

—-

This geography
of eyelashes and elbows
making its mark
on our common spaces.

—-

The unchanged arc
of our intimate history
lights up
your single dimple.

——

The fog is thick between
the dust colored sunshine
and the fading smell
of last night’s jasmine.

—–

Leave this hour behind
inside me
like the signature of your smile
on the blind tips of my fingers.

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