What A Scenario

Satish Verma

Put me through the 
french knots. I am 
under the gaze of 
a jilted lover. 

A freeze melts in 
the rainbow. The dew 
sits on the eyebrows 
of the grass. 

The spark splits 
between the shadows. 
Someone has hanged 
himself from the window. 

There was no life left 
in the stump. Now 
bristles will not stand 
at ancient sites.