Dilip Chitre

As the butterfly
hovers near a sunset
its wings touch the sea

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Flesh Tint

Like a painting by Velazquez
A woman stands
Alone in the frame
Touched by the brush of light
Blossoming.

How did
Flesh Tint reflect Naples Yellow
In this greenish blue room?

What made the sun
Suddenly rise on the palette?

That beggarwoman on Tulsi Pipe Road
That streetwalker in Chicago
What immortal light has washed them
To make her stand here
Naked
In mysterious clarity?

[...] Read more

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