Poetry

On the night when vessel
was empty
grackle did not sing.

For the sake of honey,
smelling a dead city, after
the rape of a daughter.

A black buck jumps on the
queen of roses, stoned after
the death of a green house.

A python had wrapped around
the child on bed,
come, save the red crying moon.

A soft drizzle wets the eyes.
I can see only stars -
disturbed by the winds.


Satish Verma