2013 Tiferet Writing Contest: Honorable Mention in Poetry
A Little Nightmusic by Ami Kaye
Her sheer veil streams in a pale mist,
the crimson lahenga
swirls around her running form,
she smells the crushed grass
beneath her naked feet.
I want you to myself, away from the
Radha, the one Krishna adores,
her face upturned to the rain,
listens for his song, reflected
from the blue-gray clouds.
Call me, call me, from the hollows of
The night, sung into being
by his sweet smile pressed
against the bansuri,
dances with the peacock feather
in his long wavy hair.
Why must you make me wait, beloved?
His chest expands on a deep breath
which he releases into the tiny hole.
Behind the stream of woodnotes
he hears the sound of her soft breaths.
Why is it I’ve forgotten everything
but the shape of your mouth?
Suddenly the ground is too warm;
a flame darts up his form.
A string of bells on hennaed feet signal her arrival,
quickening to the call of his night flute.