BURNT TASTE

A cyan globe 
rolling in the black sky. 
I was visualizing 
an earthset 
on the horizon. 

Lianas 
threw a noose 
around my neck. 
Did I 
start the fires? 

My dissent 
was of any relevance? 
Who was standing 
on the moon? 

Self-centered was your vision 
I was trying 
to turn the tide. 

So much bragging 
could not go well with me. 
The tongue had the burnt taste.

Satish Verma