Silver Bleeds Red

Folder: 
Satish Verma

There was smoke
without a candle. I had been moved.
My gold rings sit on the moon.

I don't claim my pain.
The immaculate crime. I have not
taken the call. The end waits at the door.

I got you easyunder
sacred tree. I am yet afraid of me.
The dry leaves carry the name of the tree.