Satish Verma

The moon titled her head 
and went inarticulate 
in black and white. 

Seeding the earth with 
stupor, undoing my― 
poem in water. 

An asteroid crashed in 
my blue lake. Sit beside me, 
I would say to a songbird. 

The cardinal sin was 
to abandon the throne 
and climb down at night. 

What was the designer's 
love, I will ask, when I 
was preparing myself for a self-denial.