by Gopikrishnan Kottoor (October 2015)
You must give birth to my love
After all this. Not a demand,
Just a feeling, that you must.
Your smells of flowers
Decaying in the bone yards
Of my name, your senses
Your breath turning to deer fright
Among the bloodied night hills.
Perhaps you must give birth to my hate
After all this. Closely parted
And sucked in, among the
Estuaries of night, turning
In full bloom in the mornings
For another night of love; you must
Give birth after all this; to nothingness
That moves in my late sleep
Bleeding the colours of your dream.
Gopikrishnan Kottoor recently brought out his eleventh collection of poems, Tell Me Neruda. He'll shortly bring out his novel Hill House. He is working on his fourth play, King Marthandavarma and Devasahayam, set in the socio historic context, Kerala, South India, that focuses on the life and times of a Hindu nobleman executed by the king for his conversion to Christianity.
Kottoor's awards for poetry include the All India Poetry Society- British Council Special Prize for poetry. He won three more leading awards of the All India Poetry Society- British Council Poetry Competitions from 95 to 98. His poetry has appeared in Bloodaxe, Fulcrum, Orbis, Ariel, Plaza, Toronto Review, and other magazines. He edits the poetry ezine www.undergroundflowers.com, a poetry quarterly. His book of poems Father, Wake in Passing, translated into German, was read on invitation across universities in Europe.
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