A Window Speaks

Satish Verma

were lengthening. 

I start mending myself. 
you commence telling in signs. 

Grass flattened. Glass― 
in water. The body floats. 
The game was over. 

A new chapter opens without a book. 

Another spurt of poetry. 
I will never forgive me. 
Fear becomes my guide. 

The sound of decapitation 
resonates. I lift the pen 
and kill myself.