DRAUPADI

Because of the weather, the food court and the Palace of Illusions

I’m very busy with my hands,
I’m churning butter;
My fingers are sticky and creamy
With thick streaks of butter
That he licks off my finger.
I watch him sprint,
The most beautiful creature
That I laid eyes on;
I’m his mother, I’m his lover;
I worship his blue skin
And his fickle black eyes.
I long to flick the feather
He flaunts in his crown,
To have him chase me,
To be pulled against his torso.
He showed me all the world
On his sharp flat tongue
And I still did not believe.
He showed me the depthless ocean,
And the orange id of the sky,
He showed me men and women,
And his petty eyes came alive.
He’s endless like a rune;
Ancient, exasperating, child-like;
Sifting and stretching himself
With his half smiles,
And light mocking tones.
He loves the Sun, he is the Moon.
He is Krishna:
Friend to Arjuna,
Husband to Rukmini,
Lover to Radha,
And to me?
He is quicksilver.