i will take your home away with me,
i will lure it with morsels of dry cake,
and see it trail behind me, purring,
wagging its tail, following me places,
all of Delhi’s dirty bylanes, and bastis.
i will do it because i take what i like,
i will do it by seeing everything of your
room, and choose to never un-see it.
i will put it on my heavy thighs and pet it gently
as I sit intently listening to poetry recitations,
for hours and hours; i will steal metaphors
from the air to feed it; and catch enjambments
to make a string and tie its neck,
keep it tucked to my warm full breasts,
a feline love affair with the house of my lover.
I will also recite poems,
but those written by you,
and read them,
as if they were written for me,
i will find myself lurking like an unwanted shadow
from a lamp post on a half deserted street,
somewhere in your half-broken sentences
and awful imagery.
while something licks my chubby ankle
with desperate irony.