Monday, 17 February 2014

The Games We Play

No amorous play
compares
with the high engendered by flirtations with the self.


Present it with honey-dripping couplets,
brush light, feather fingers across its skin,
swear with wonder to its extraordinariness.


When it greedily begins to lap it all up, asking for more,
tease
push
prod
provoke it
to do
the scandalous
the outrageous
the ‘impossible’.


When it bites the bait,
steps outside ‘itself’
and goes on
to do what you had fed into its imagination,
go ahead,
meet it,
give it
a noisy high-five,
while it grins from ear to ear
in shy, incredulous happiness.


Then get together,
throw back your head
and laugh,
with the blood rushing to your head.
Heady, heady delight.


I hope you dance.
when you walk.
And float.
when you dance.


First published in Metaphor Magazine, 17 February 2014.

3 comments:

Abhra said...

Flirtations with self? Smiles - I like the interplay of emotions here - tease, provoke and outrageously intense satisfaction with blood rushing. Good work. I read your post yesterday but didn't leave a comment. My little one keeps jumping on my keyboard.

ankita said...

Thank you. With the option of 'likes' these days, it means something when one leaves a comment. Maybe a few words of suggestion from your little one next time :).

probe said...

heady, heady delight :)

FOLLOWERS

Blogger last spotted practising feminism, writing, editing, street theatre, aspirational activism.