satishverma

THE WHOLENESS

Days are crisp, 
nights chilled. 
A lake of fluid fire, under the clouds, 
prepares for a virgin assault. 
I do not thaw the frozen hurts, 
respect the disguise of the old lover. 

Hearing my own voice from a distance? I 
stand by the shore, 
discover my lost home, 
become a valley of sphinxes. 

And the wetland kicks the pain 
of earth to break into insanity of scars.

Satish Verma