Poetry

To catch himself
he jumped into fishpond
becoming opaque
between silk and lethal crotch.
Milk of silence started flowing
from earth’s breast.

His name was a flower
who was a blind witness
of the love-
for a moon
which plunged into a lake without a bottom.

Pain is spilled since then
on the charred lips.
Marigold–
waits for the sun
to rise only once.

All the empty hands
carry one eye
of the seeds,
to sprout in jungle of smiles.