UNTRAILED

It was a wake up call 
invoked 
in the beginning of serene numbness. 

Under the veiled threat of 
a moon 
celebrating the kill. A path in croci; 

waiting becomes a torture for a 
saffron sundown, 
mercury was rising on snowy peaks. 

Let’s toe a shikara in the lake 
to catch a reflection 
of the audible silence of a frozen shoulder 

A pause in psychotic burst of 
unshattered false teeth 
of time in full habit.

Satish Verma