Poetry

From here to you
a legacy of dust was deepening.
I was reading a lot
between the dots.
You will get another master
I will get another pain.

In the maze of tunnels
a fear of fall snips.
A window becomes a man
unbuttoning the skin.
A body starts scratching
a secret.


The earthly sense warns
of a whiff of a stranger,
at the door in dark.
Like a ripe tear
I will not betray the eye -
in this grey hour.


Satish Verma