PRIVATE MOORINGS

searching for words in continuum of 
incompleteness, it was a trickle at first, then 
a free fall, cerebral fury: I am becoming expansive, 
so apposed to verbatim of shrieks, only 

in whispers I will talk to delphiniums, 
I would walk inside the time capsule, come 
and sit besides me for a while, I am tired of 

this ghost town, and fleeing shadows of 
waning luminories on the horizon in 

half-naked blooms; on different shores 
U-boats are being lowered with torpedos. I am 

waiting for the hurricane

Satish Verma