The muse offers herself in full glory;
Every historian knits her second-skin lingerie
With the needles of the moral compass
Unleashing new sunshine into the
Unravel new erogenous zone
Like discovering a new continent
On a maiden voyage along
The contours of her nerve endings.
Her tongue during the stone-age was flint knife.
Now her tongue is the state of the art
Swiss-knife with each blade a
Sickle, hammer, trident, dagger, swastika!
The sky littered with
Constellations of stars like transient poems
With every successive constellation
Drifting with the speed of light
To the holy grail of Hercules.
S. Chandramohan is an English language poet based in India.