Celebrating the death.
Neither physical, nor nostalgic-
I adore the finish,
in place of wages.
Not cerebral.It was
my pledge to remain a husk
after the carnage.
In manthanal I will preserve
the memories of hairless moon-
my nomadic friend.
Like a woodpecker to mark my
territory, I want to stay
alone in my grief.
March and dahlias.Sometimes
I stand before them and,
talk about ephemerality of the beauty.
When would you come
to say goodbye?