Satish Verma

Xanax in the blood 
Empty chairs. 
Small birds, hopping from here 
to there. Waiting for the guests. 

Evening sits on the 
dirt road. 
We look together at the 
cracked moon. 

The grace of becoming 
gray, sweeping the floor 
of life. You will wear a different 
smile everyday. 

The house follows you 
wherever you go.Saturn or Mars 
will not cast a spell of malfeasance.