A Dream of Hanuman

Om Sri Hanumate Namah

Drowned within the monsoon air-blush,
    Symphonic crush of petals, swirling
        Above the tongue-chant, rushing, I

Flush delirious at the scent of you, winged
    Monkey-warrior-boy, languid against me
        Resting. Your wind-breath gnarls this 

Smear-garden of color, your eternal tail restraining,
    In a tender bondage, coiled. I, time and in between
        Again, awake — dream-met, my face reddened.

Such consonant bliss grazed by your language
    Always at the tips of these fingers, burning.
        Those essential parts of you, worshipful and —

Maddeningly that whisper — simian and primal, 
    Sex and sadness, honeyed in day-sleep, coerce
        My fingers to stroke your venerated face. 

The gentle ache, foolish, as bestial within me
    As these hands which clutch, these lips that furrow
        The pools on your downy chest, re-tracing.

The iron grasp of you is — against this hurricane
    Of flowers — the rose, the rock, the pinkened
        Granite of the ground rising beneath us;

Is that which sets ablaze these chants
    And verses that you feed my mouth. These words
        That from me bleed and drain, that storm 

In drops upon the stones, may not elaborate; 
    Nor should I trust but that the seed
        Of our first meeting in the forest-dream 

Flows within me still, attending. Bitter and delightful is
    The urge to clothe myself a figure in your celibate skin
        Or that my tongue-piece should then wish 

To willow in the unceasing curves of you —  to feast upon
    The sun in your mouth, the glow of your wind-battered
        Omens brought from heaven — for that libation poured 

Out in shadows beneath this marriage bed
    In the swaying branches of our sacred banyan tree.

© Karekin M Yarian