Sathi & Vegetarian

SATHI

Bored of sex, she made a pyre.
Motionless he lay,
The last sandal log hid his sky.

Shriek of raw body echoed
Meek, like the crystal hiss of
Torrid metal, phosphorous
And sulphur in the hugging kiln.

As if entering the honeymoon suite,
Fragrant of incense sandal sticks,
Seven footsteps she took,
On to his bed of fire, slumped,
To embrace SATHI.

VEGETARIAN

“How much for Sardine?”
My query.
“The name is Madonna,”
Her Response.
“Choose ten big,”
My demand.
“Will turn nineteen
Next month,” snaps she.

Wrapped half in half out,
With Madonna-smile string,
Waves she, the packet.

Did it slip?

Wife cleans,
Tosses to cat, those
With rotten gills.
Tongue, acerbic chops
The man who regrets not,
The wasted bucks.

Swear I, to stop
Eating fish,
Fried without oil
And spice, in the
Microwave mind.
Swear, be vegetarian
From tomorrow,
To be true.