Issue 6,  Poetry

There’s only a one way ticket in a streetcar named Desire by Satya Dash

Do you remember 
that time you got accidentally attracted,
that goddamn time when desire felt so criminal,
that it guillotined your head into a bucket of shame.

If parts of the body change texture to keep up with time,
if words of the tongue shift shape to appease audiences,
it must be only natural 
we’re all inclined to love different things at different times. 

Attraction is a face below the face,
a navel hovering under the chin,
dipped in a jaw white of bone,
finding no crease to burrow,
no lard to fallow.
People say skin is loud. 
They should listen to the chaffing of bone
against barbs of sweat & curls of want.
The men & women you love shall love you back,
unlove you, love each other. 

My concern is when I go home after work
 & see the lead in a romantic movie dole out lines,
it makes me want to want. 
The glint in his eye suggests improvisation.
There is always something sharper in your gaze 
when you make your own lines.
When I follow suit in real life & try inventing lines,
actually situations for lines,
I realize it works differently here. 
Sometimes when you do things 
better than you’re supposed to, you fail.
Everybody learns it the hard way. 
Today I shall allow you to orgasm, wholly to yourself.
Because – and of this I’m certain –
pleasure imparted is pleasure multiplied. 


Satya Dash‘s recent poems have been published or are forthcoming in Passages North, The Magnolia Review, Prelude, Porridge, The Florida Review. He has been a cricket commentator, dabbled with short fiction and has a degree in electronics from BITS Goa. He lives in Bangalore, India and recites his poetry in the city’s cafes. 

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