Not seven or eleven play
Sabita Sahu
to please and entertain others
nor for public viewing
it’s the forest bowers
on river banks or bedrooms
far from peeping eyes.
The bed is the field
narrow but wide
small yet large like a
little universe created
small yet large like a
little universe created
by a man and woman,
he and she, only two
holding each other in passion
stung arms, locking fingers
and lips, bone and flesh
he and she, only two
holding each other in passion
stung arms, locking fingers
and lips, bone and flesh
biting each other in
fighting stance in
the name of love.
fighting stance in
the name of love.
They follow no rules
no medal no trophy no judge
it’s all nameless and fameless
evening night morning noon
date calendar season clime
even bed or sand kitchen corner
they play the eternal game of love.
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