AGAIN FALLING IN LOVE

I don’t belong to me, 
to you, to her, to him. 
Who are you, I ask myself 
again falling in love for a tender shoot, 
uncoiling under the debris of unfaithful corners? 

I was watching a small birdie 
hopping against a mirror, cracking the beak 
to kill a rival. 

She was pulling at my arm 
white death in red scarf. 

This is for you my fellow-traveller, 
a beautiful sector of my hidden garden, 
where I have permitted you to come for a walk. 
Hand in hand we will watch the peerless evening – 
sitting on the wings of gulls. 
Will you like to break a promise 
before I implode on the moon? 

You light the earthen lamp daily under a tree, 
to possess me, trap me, digest me. Voicelessly 
I melt into smoke, fly away in small huffs.

Satish Verma