For Others

Satish Verma

Salt burnt, you come 
under the shade 
of milkworts. 

Not fated, you still 
wanted, unaided departure. 

Reading the lifeline in your hand, 
why did you opt 
to kick the bucket? 

You wanted to celebrate the luge with vodka? 

How do you get in my shoes? 
You become me? 
The blue lake of your eyes was frozen 
I will walk on ice to reach your home.