UNABUSED

The bone line travels 
from flesh to flesh, 
tears into blood. 
I was not crude, not blunt. 
Dew teasers, 

were my guests with luggage 
of pain, ready to dip to taste 
the language of surrender. 
There was no acrimony 
between enemies. 

Across a hot blazing desert 
walking barefoot to find you 
in a vein of green water, O my curse 
I will scoop you into my poem 
to become a daisy.

Satish Verma