SCENIC BEAUTY

What do you think 
a redemption of a clone will work 
in the galaxy of stars? 

The hope was drying and violence 
refuses to decline in the valley of flowers. 
Orphaned moon climbs up the hill 
to preside over the murmuring truths. 

Nothing seems to work 
for the liberation of long night 
and the winds put off the lantern’s light 
which was standing on the shore. 

A black widow crawls on my chest 
for a certain drenching by a sucked heart. 
Still I stare at the black eyes 
for a washed up death.

Satish Verma