PAIN OF ELEGY

When logic and intuition 
stood on edge of time, 
sugar was dancing 
on the salt lake. 

I would not see the torn 
book between retreat 
and assault. 
I was reining in the new moon. 

In a night raid, five 
peacocks were killed. I was 
trying to unseize the cross purpose, 
why the compensation was rejected 
at burial site. 

The burden of guilt 
was carried by the flint now. 
You take a final plunge 
and are lost in the faces 
of sad children.

Satish Verma