Poetry

A fat island burns
under a looming sun.
Bleeding rays will enter your eyes
to see the blundering world.

The gods were melting down
looking at the corpses of
faltering orchids, spread out
at the feet of a white blaze.

The oriole sheds the gold
and embraces a brown –
black cloud against
a dazzling green.

A dishevelled country rumbles
to get a street sense from
a meditating Buddha.

Satish Verma