Moon was playing
with a skylark. I give
a whistle. He ducks behind
the palm.
This was your figment
of imagination. You had
said, bring the last sound
of the forest.
I was the giver.
I am the taker.
An immaculate kiss
of the flame will decide
the destiny of bullet.
There was no distance
between the lips and
the hiss of the venomous snake.