No Acrimony

Satish Verma

You decline to speak― 
to listen― 
to see 
like a meditating Buddha. 

Like a sunflower 
with moon seeds, 
ready to explode at sunset. 

neck, hanged from a tree 
to tell the tale― 
that you were violated. 

This was the principle of 
cosmic order. Poor god 
waits for the world 
to show the rage. 

I wake up the tree. 
Leaves fall like unspoken words 
from the decaying oak.