Touch-Me-Not- Plant

Abstract

She violently turns herself
into a touch-me-not-plant.
Growing steadily in a far off place
away from me a thousand miles apart
within this small 10×10 sq. feet room—
a place yearning for something.
The bed becomes a burning furnace,
and she grows like a tiny
touch-me-not-plant.
The more I move towards her,
the more she grows like it.
Too sensitive, too fearful and too much of coyness.
Aloofs and aloofs—
she becomes a touch-me-not-plant.
The bed becomes a barren one.
Infertile. Impotent. Unproductive.
Love and lust are lovely lusts
but here they are lost.
She has awesomely turned herself
into a touch-me-not-plant.
I laydown besides her,
deeply mourning the deaths
of so many undelivered still- born
births of my discontinued lineage.
My grandfathers and forefathers mock at me
for keeping a touch-me-not- plant at home.
~~~Dr.M. Elangovan is an Associate Professor, P.G. and Research Department of English,
Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India. Email: [email protected].