satishverma

DANCING ON LEASH

It was a failed attempt 
to employ the eternity 
for breathing. 

Iris, I cannot find the moon 
behind the rainbow, when 
I was throwing petals at your feet. 

O, white truce of anemone, 
why phosphrous was given up 
at the fall of an oak? 

In heaps of praises, 
a monologue of the lamb 
in the den of lions.

Satish Verma