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Vijay Seshadri – Ⅲ

 The Painted Things 




Never as slowly as you do now

have I seen you take the painted things off before.


One hour isn’t enough for the bangle on your wrist,

one day for your jewel-encrusted breastplate.

One night dies

expecting your velvet garter.


The glacial tick in the moraine,

the clock of radium in the stone

can’t keep the time it takes for your sky blue blouse

to be slipped from your shoulder.


And as for your sous-vetements

the sun will burn out before

I can put my paws on those,


sleeping on my paws at your little desk

as I wait for you,

because I have eyes slow enough for you,

I have the eyes to wait for you.