Eyes In The Bowls

Satish Verma

You become absent in 
repose..I try to rein in the 
subterfuge in stranger's eyes. 
There was nothingness. A chestnut 
tree was refusing to let go 
the nuts. 

The phantom fight begins between the 
daffodils. The sun had given 
the borders, step by step, to 
different colors. Still the bloom 
weeps for its blindness. I will 
not unmake me. The faith- 

this winter was bad. The 
deathmarks were evident. We 
wait for something to happen, 
ready to unroll the schizophrenia.