by Rumjhum Biswas


You pull the bloodied gloves off your lily white hands and watch. The bulls are in frenzy. They are mounting the cows as if there is no tomorrow. And they are right, for their hour is nigh.


Funny how animals get their strongest urge to mate when they know they will be slaughtered. You smile at this thought. Your black hair billows in the wind; a stray strand kisses your ripe mouth. Your eyes are like sapphires in the dark. You arch your back, your tight buttocks deliciously squeezing together. The bulls arouse you. You love them most when you've just slit their throats and their warm blood pours out like a sudden waterfall.


When you come down, carrying drink and meat, you hear the clanking of my chains and laugh. How long has it been? How many moons? I don't care any more. The sight and scent of you maddens, but I don't lunge. I wait.


Who knew it would turn out like this? Certainly not I. For once, I had misjudged, miscalculated; for once, I had met my match. No, more than that! I love you.


Now I am here. This space that you dug out for me, single handed, is cramped despite your best efforts. You know what I was used to. You try to make amends. I appreciate that, even though I care little for the past. Even though I know that I am living on the edge of absolute death.


 We eat and drink together. You pull off my clothes, and we make love like this is the last and most glorious time. You take playful nips at my face and neck. But you never let me do that to you.  And we never kiss. If you really loved me you would let me, I say.  But I know your answer. We are not like the rest. There haven't been lovers like us in the whole history of this planet!


But that is not the whole truth. Both of us know why you don't let a whisper of daylight blight our little den, our private space. Why you keep my mouth gagged tight when we make love; why my hands and legs are chained always, though sometimes you do free my left arm, a bit. And you moan, oh how you moan when I hold you, pull you close with my left arm. Yet, even in the throes of passion you keep a wary eye on me. No creature alive, dead or in between can match your instinct for self preservation.


Darling you are a strange and beautiful woman. We would have made an incomparable pair, but …Never mind that now.  We are together, at least for now. That is the most important thing. I cannot trust myself to think beyond that my love.


My sweet Selena. My moon maiden. Make love to me like there is no tomorrow, for we both know that one of these days I will surely break free.


© Rumjhum Biswas