Poetry

O leviathan,
enter the dark cloud of death
defanging fire,
the mountain wants to shiver.

Sand was slipping from my fists.
I cannot hold the time;
wet eyes
will find another moon.

The milk had dried up in body.
A heart burns like bonfire,
for a heretic. A lone stranger
in a city of wolves.

A bareback beauty sits on the rock
waits for the sea
to bring her the poison. An Aphrodite
will never call for nothing.



Satish Verma