Dutch Door

Satish Verma

Moving among the glittering- 
crowns, as in glaciated valley. 
once again, in capital of grief. 
I am folding the twilight. 

The viciousness of the hisses, zooms, 
once you sleep on the bed of silence. 
A blue light cuts you half. 
I survive on the black tongues. 

The assault was imminent now. 
Flat foots will invade the afterthoughts. 
The incline was treacherous- 
You cannot climb up, nor down. 

Give me a haiku after the sun. 
There was no night work left and- 
I am plotting not to kill myself. 
I will burn an empty bark.