Stains Are Darkening

Satish Verma

After centuries of reverie― 
a dream breaks, falls 
like a mirror in ink, splintering 
into thousand thoughts. Somewhere 
words start flying. 

Oh god! 
your feet of clay are crumbling. 
I wanted to write a new script 
on your body, 
slashing my wrists. 

How much the truth was 
lying? Ask the shades alluding 
to moon. Patchy and opaque 
in forest of maple, I was counting 
the red-lobed leaves. 

Your eyes were telling a 
soulful tale. On beach were 
sitting some youngmen in a row in orange jump 
suits waiting to meet 
their gods.