Satish Verma

It was the day of 
dead patriarch. 
I was fondling an echidna. 

The home was 
carried away in the─ 
storm. Must find a broom. 

On the remains─ 
of a burned-out soul. 
A hope sits on the altar. 

A piano drenched in rain─ 
will not sing in the gale. 
The sky will collapse─ 

one day, I will bring 
back the bluebird, 
for a revenge.

Satish Verma