NINTH MONTH

Goose-stepping on a soul song 
you set the sky ablaze, 
and I was not ready to welcome you. 

I was hungry and I was thirsty 
but could not find the road. 
Back and forth, back and forth 

walking with the toad. You can guess 
my predicament when I said 
that, I am, not I would 

assult on the chaste fruit 
of the moon, growing on the 
tall tree of September.

Satish Verma