Poetry

That fugitive dream
of shrinkage:
a room in a room
a door in a door.
You were hurting the house affairs
at midnight.

The space accident
starts dismanteling the life.
Selective pain
comes again.
You start distancing from story touch,
long vision.

The canary brings down
the roof. Somebody was leaving.
The eyes will search another sky,
another tree.
In a light slumber
another fall from the perch.

Satish Verma