BEWILDERING

The restless legs take you, 
weightless, to marshes 
to find the stilts. 
The sea was rising. 

What was inside our tongues; 
such unclosing stink, 
we were afraid to spit it out? 
The wronged angels were waiting. 

A topless soul wanders in the 
rainforest.Amazing, the tigers were 
dead without wounds.You sit on 
the window for marrying a moon. 

The quick grafting of the roses was 
useless.All night it had rained. The hail- 
stones were as big as skulls. Eyes were 
gouged out and time was blind.

Satish Verma