Unsinking In Depth

Satish Verma

You are not 
on my page. 
No more in my abstract sleep. 

will not be declared- 
in the realm of dark dreams. 

There was 
one tear at a time. 
No battle cry. 

Trampling on 
the old reminiscences, 
a tiger jumps on the author- 

of mangrove. 
The aerial roots have 
stopped breathing. 

Your lungs become 
a flute. A war song frightens 
the death.