//mypoeticside.com/

satishverma

Not Ready To Forget

Very scary, I admit― 
your vintage― 
lovemaking with 
a ghost. 

Life in a crate was 
creating nonpoems. 
Water on the ice moon 
was never there. 

Unmasked you shoot a 
songbird in flight. 
The soft music went into 
the barrel of the gun. 

Come and meet my other 
self. My penchant for talking 
to flowers has made 
me a martyr.