Poetry at Sangam



DESIRE by Sudeep Sen

Under the soft translucent linen,
    the ridges around your nipples

harden at the thought of my tongue.
    You — lying inverted like the letter ‘c’ —

arch yourself deliberately
    wanting the warm press of my lips,

it’s wet to coat the skin
    that is bristling, burning,

breaking into sweats of desire —
    sweet juices of imagination.

But in fact, I haven’t even touched
    you. At least, not yet.