we talk in rivers. I have noticed
them flow in the midst of our
conversations – mine the thames,
serpentine slipping as a whisper
through the low meadows, quiet
and hissing. yours the five rivers
of the punjab, vying like brothers
in a tumult of froth and noise,
wrestling their way through
mangrove roots and mazes.
the rivers raised us, taught us their ways.
somewhere two oceans meet in a
place where there is no wind,
the doldrums silent and still
as two currents cancel out in
a moment of collision. as the
thames flows into the punjab
and halts, so too do we stand
together, silent, over-brimming
with restrained tidal waves,
our currents ceased and bridled
each time we kiss in a place
where even time stills its flow.