satishverma

FALLING FALLING

A translator hits the stop 
a parable tells the million lies. 

The spill was overflowing the walking fire, 
dissenters were rising from seabed. 

Looking inward I open a pathway 
leading to home faraway. 

Who will keep it contained, the smouldering 
anger? The colossus was bleeding inside. 

Cut moon, as the death walks between stars 
into forgetful sky. Overnight it was red. 

The necklace crosses a lake becoming 
a swan’s neck in tearing chains.

Satish Verma