A Window Burns

Satish Verma

Mind-set of fractured 
faith, falters. 
Now you want to ignore the god. 

The bald cypress 
hides the buttress roots. 
Eagle was flying very low. 

The clouds speak 
in favor of sky. You cannot 
heal the sun's wounds. 

Flames are mine. 
You burn the poppies to 
float the arrogance. 

Half burnt-out letters 
of a lover, make a glory 
of withdrawal of summer.