by Armel J. Ngamaleu
To Ananda Devi
Living is not an escape but a sweet offence.
Shadow of my love.
The wing of my heart.
You are not who you used to be.
Become again the one you run away from.
In the neighborhood, we talk about it.
You are the reflection of the day and the night.
They say that you walk backwards.
They take pleasure in taunting you.
I would like to transform your face.
I would like to reverse the curve of your life.
I would like to give a sense to your madness.
I would like to come out of my silence.
The drunken boat of your life sinks.
You admire houses of cards.
Life is an ocean;
All ambitions drown in it.
You perhaps do not know it.
I watch you vanish like an ember.
You have lost all the rules.
All I do is write books.
My heart is torn looking for your heart.
My loins boil for your volcanic breasts.
My lips move like your toes.
One day you will see yourself in the mirror.
Then you will know you have got nothing.
You will see a muzzled face;
You will see a body filled with lies.
You will ask yourself: what have I become?
You will want to kiss death.
And you will curse life.
You were … so gorgeous like Ananda Devi!
