Like a freak obsession
I used to visit the museum
to relive my genes of darkness.
He was a fakir, blotched, wrinkled skin
with eternal itch, scratching like a simian;
became a saint
body in body.
The days were warming up. Heat was generating
a longing to sip the melting ice of kisses, the lush
green eyes of wind. Clouds wiping the smudges
of vermilion on sky.
This was my arrival time. The peak explosion
of panicky waves. Was not in time, not in
immutable age. Was my impermanence,
my humility of pebbles on beach. The pull
from moon will decide the cerebration. I
will not stop the complete death, not begrudge
the totality of emptiness.
SATISH VERMA
