Poetry

When you take a false
lead, life will undo the seeds
and the cataracts freeze.

This is the story of
a butterfly, in disturbing amber
buried in snowfall.

Can your body take the imprints of flogging?
When you start sketching the polar ice
in the story of death, compounding
the mystry of
unleashing sea
of the fawn eyes, whose message
was sent in water?