If I were an abstract painter

If I were an abstract painter,

I would paint you and me,

In the cashew grove,

Whorls of green,

Strokes of knotted brown,

Dotted here and there

With luminous red,

Blurred coins of lemon sun,

And underlying, in the centre,

A collage of squares,

Of bright orange and faded blue.

If I were a miniaturist,

I would spend hours on the composition.

Then line up the brushes side by side,

And with infinite care,

Paint the veins of leaves,

The striped roughness of the bark,

The red, smooth, pulpy fruits,

With  dark, obscene, foetus nuts.

The orange curve of a breast,

The freckled flesh of an underarm,

Glimpsed through a blue t-shirt sleeve.

Two beings caught by the painter's brush,

Brown gaze locked in green

But wait! That's like death!

To be frozen in a single mood.

And however lovely it might be,

I choose to free you and me,

To stroll out of the picture frame,

Leaving behind the central space,

For other lovers to occupy.

 Arunima Choudhury