Hotel JNU
You are a land that refuses
to be a nation,
but in your head is a country where all slogans are always heard.
You are a song that finds its own rhyme.
“Awaaz do”, my lips whisper.
“ Hum ek hai”, your tongue draws me in.
We organize eat-ins at each other’s bodies.
I try to educate your hips into a passable rhythm
while you agitate my skin into quick bondage.
Together, we organize chaos.
Together, we ride a gravity wave, broadcasting ourselves through the windows, shooting off into lands
where inquilaabic spurts are never taxed for sedition.