reversing the ‘champaka’ times

Standard

it had been perfumed overnight
the nostalgic airs
of the just-erected shed
that stacked mouth-shut cartons
tucked with two cities’ remnantal loads
of almost a decadeful memories
of the abandonments
that struck like a tsunami, twice
over the same broken shores
chiselling solitude
with fading boundaries
of leftover ruins

sipping bitterish Coorg coffee
with accentuating chicory
the floral fragrance wafted
like dancing angels
starkly against the tongue -choking
milkened solid brews

champaka taken in my palms

seducing topnotes fast-fused
with empty nightish skins
yellowish-orange
feminine slender petals
with sprawling tips
stood as if it was a host in ached waits
for its  awaited ‘what’?
a pure mingling touch, a deep
depositing dewdrop, a long
resonating wave sequence,
a slight sweeping breezelet
or a stormling destruction?

destalked last twilight 
its halfed life with falling fleshiness
and descending scents
wasnt disheartened
at the worsening senescence
fastened
by palm-touched warmths 

within minutes of this magical
brahmamuhurta
that blessed me with temple’s
margazhi archanai
echoing bells,
fragilities would breakdown
my champaka 
like a burnt banana peel

Let divinity you be conferred
derived from blessings
Let the emotionless time
be once maddened
by a  befuddled backseat
and further to a comatose standstill

Let the mesmerizing you
be eternalized
from your delicate sinless stints
for elevated purpose

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