Poetry

Let us talk today
of crazed times,
so that the trade of
ethical falls runs.

When dawn breaks
on the stunned silence
of moon, I start unfolding
the black sun.

Ah, a poetry wound
aches my world, knee deep
in blue veins, to find
the lost river of tears.

Give me a song, a word
a phrase, to grow old.

Satish Verma