What He Said Love, love,
they say. Yet love
is no new grief
nor sudden disease; nor something
that rages and cools.
Like madness in an elephant,
coming up when he eats
certain leaves,
love waits
for you to find
someone to look at.
Miḷaipperuṅkantaṉ
Kuṟ 136
What She Said My friend,
I will not think again of him,
of his long seashore
noisy with birds
the
aṭumpu creeper with leaves cloven
as the hooves of a deer,
the bright-bangled women
prying open for their games
its flowers that look like the shiny beads and bells
on a horse’s neck,
and I will let me eyes sleep
Nampi Kuṭṭuvan
Kuṟ 244
What Her Girl-Friend Said to Him
Sir,
not that we did not hear the noise
you made trying to open the bolted doors,
a robust bull elephant
stirring in the night
of everyone’s sleep;