Full Moon Plunge

By Susmita Chatterjee Alias Aloakash

The moon tree menstruates

On the full moon night

Foliating herself in sprouts

Her aura rejuvenated in the median

Awakened that she is after eons

She no more questions

Why menstruation is considered a taboo

Chandburi, the aged woman of the moon, as she is called

By her kith and kin

Now knows herself to be a marmite

She spreads her feather roots deep inside

The morass marking time in her cycle

Without meddling with the madness

that cultural meanings surround her with

Chandburi, my lover, morphs inside me

As I feel the moraine piled up in my lower abdomen

I bid adieu to those muddle headed thinkers

A pain, sharp and shooting, leaves me

In a monad that I and chandburi am

The Mobius strip girdling my waist

Drops of blood adoring my full moon night

I plunge

The modalities of five senses leading to the sixth

The sense of wholesome joy that cannot be misspelt anymore

Charm of the full orb melting the sap of alchemical goal

Moulds leaves of knowledge eyes

By Susmita Chatterjee Alias Aloakash