Poetry

sometime I watch
the fear held aloft by you, possessed,
you try to protect yourself from you in vain,

very thirsty, white
hydrangeas on your lips tremble, exhaust
their need for clouds in blue eyes, pale

fountain gives up
tumult of sand grains for high skilled
white god of snow who could not prevent

a land slide all morning,
my bones still do not agree for a
marrow withdrawl for an emptied leukaemia

hidebound, rapacious
in the chaste tree, stuck by night grab,
the bright stars fall one by one on ice



Satish Verma