Less Than a Salt East China Sea Between Them

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

The Indians have a sentiment like love

Inside their marrow, marrow of mauve silk,

Too like a maharani, lacking shove

Of Maharaja’s organ, semen milk

To quench her queen-like thirst inside her dark

Desires.  This softness has the smell of red

Because ahimsa intervenes with mark

Of Buddha’s bend.  Here life and love are wed.

The Chinese lean through violence of mind

And ruthlessness, a brutal lion of teeth.

They think and think but then turn like their blind

Silk dragons, crushing victims underneath.

  Do not be innocent.  These both love hate.

    They mix both pink and black with raw silk fate.

~ Phillip Whidden