OUTSIDE, IT'S COLD.

by A.V. Koshy

Outside they are getting ready to kill each other in the name of religion
Slip through the nets
Let us walk unseen
To the field where the small, wild, white flowers bloom
There on the grass
Let me make love to you
Your hair in my mouth
You tangled in my arms
While far away sounds of weapons and thunder
Tell us time is short
Soon I will have to go
And try to bring peace
And they may kill me for it, my love
Let me have my fill of you
Be strength to my marrow
And believe I wiill come back
If only to drink the honey of your lips
As the crow, thirsty
Does
From rain-puddle or water tap
While you, to me, incline
You lips, eyes, cheek and pretty bust
To make sad love worthwhile
With our scanty kisses
Only a bottle
In such hard pressed times
Of holy water
No longer oceans wide