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Evening Prayers
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Satish Verma I plant my last kiss
on the wall of mausoleum,
and turn back to face the
inevitable transparency.
Like a birthmark―
you stick to me for an eternity.
Honeyed tongue swaps
a blue. I am not a path,
only a candle in the wind.
Moon-washed your face
swims in my black eyes.
I search my genes
in you, for an answer.
In poetic jargon, with
broken wings, I take a flight
to that horizon, where
my aura ends and your spell begins.
Blameless-you spin,
and break into hundred of shards.
They become stars. I remain
stranded at sunset.
