Poetry

First listen to your heart. 
No poetry will walk tonight― 
without fear. 
 
Sometimes you will find― 
words will not descend/to heal 
your ache of unslept poems. Hovering/ 
like the obsessive hawks. 
 
The migratory, adjutant/ 
storks, had not come to roost 
on the tall tree― 
naked as they are. 
 
Democracy always/sends 
erotica/to take off your mind 
from the trivial subjects. 
 
Fireworks resume the celebrations 
for the fugitive/who returned 
home after drinking absinthe.