Evening Prayers

Satish Verma

I plant my last kiss 
on the wall of mausoleum, 
and turn back to face the 
inevitable transparency. 

Like a birthmark― 
you stick to me for an eternity. 
Honeyed tongue swaps 
a blue. I am not a path, 
only a candle in the wind. 

Moon-washed your face 
swims in my black eyes. 
I search my genes 
in you, for an answer. 

In poetic jargon, with 
broken wings, I take a flight 
to that horizon, where 
my aura ends and your spell begins. 

Blameless-you spin, 
and break into hundred of shards. 
They become stars. I remain 
stranded at sunset.