A Monument

Satish Verma

Wanting to feel your breath 
in this room, in half-light, my hands 
opened the window to let him in, 
the green moon. 

For so much violence in everyday life. 
let’s break a poem and sqeeze its honey 
and carve only feet, of invisible fear. 

When I had run after a dream 
the frills of your gown caught fire; 
at the door a music stopped 

to listen to rustling of a caged bird 
longing for the green flight of a silent 
morning joining a procession of a recent 
mythical hurt.