Poetry

Ashes:
I was gathering blue light
from your lynx-eyed vessel
of death.

Against terror
blind-folded, shot in the head
on road.

Earth was your bed
and a shimmering moon
your pillow.

It was apathy of gates
of heaven.
The mist grows heavy.

Daring to bare
the jugs of wine,
body walks on edge.


Satish Verma