Poetry

In longest night
of pitch-dark space
you disappear like an arrow.
No star brightens your face.
Rumor was cruising like a bat on streets
to capture the gullible victim
on winter solstice.
The snow was falling like
sorcery.

A little anxiety to taste the
dried out grapes
and listen to the hunger
mouthless.

You draw the lake
on a canvas
and then jump into it
with visible nakedness.


Satish Verma