The Indian sun is in my blood
It rushes, boiling, through my veins
It scourges
And it lights a fire
It spins up sunstorms, fire breathing
And, like a dragon, rages through me
Slithers, scuttles, swoops, and flies
And as it simmers underneath –
My skin is cold and tantalised
Oh, cold fire –
You almost soothe me
Oh, waking sleep –
Of broken dreams
You truly are Verona to me
Boiling, beckoning, banishing me
You cannot eat me, Indian sun
I’m captive to a brighter Star
And you can roar and you can fight
But you can never win this war
Yet, all the same, the Indian sun
Combs my hair and beats my head
And leaves me bruised and aching still
In flights of unrequited rest
From Blue Chunni