Snake Dance

Satish Verma

Silence was so loud― 
a pain ago, would you 
resume me now, 
between a scion and stock. 

The sap had dried up. 
A tiny human inside a pen 
draws the borders 
of bleeding lacerations. 

Black mouths, 
confront the grizzled gods. 
I want them now 
in water. 

Suicide of a fig tree was 
evident. It had eaten its 
own figs. No leaves 
were left now.