Map Reading

Satish Verma

In blood and grass 
lies the snowman. 

I must not look at it twice 
after the spring melt. 

The black magic has failed. 
A mooned night will― 
not reflect the real intent 
of song's proxy in dark. 

A lethal mix of twilight 
and solstice, squats in gloom 
to listen the surrender 
of shine. 

The glorious name, ultimately 
drops the hint, 
of profanity, written on wall.