Between This And That

Satish Verma

There was a trust deficit 
between the rose petals, under 
the wheels and the moving feet. 

It does not resolve the ancient 
conflict of man with 
the machine via perfume. 

The smell of the pungent smoke, 
sits in the empty chairs, 
when you were left alone on the burning deck. 

Where the sky meets 
the ocean, my ship had sunk 
amidst the blood and the blaze. 

In absentia, I am baffled 
by the time's minute, when the search 
of the self goes unending.