16 August, 2010

MY FAULT

Your genome was climbing down. 
I hate to count the steps. 

Feathers hurt sometimes 
after the end of flying. 

How far was the moment of dust? 
You were still swimming in saline water. 

A collective guilt will pay the price. 
Blissfully nothing else was to be done. 

On your behalf I will not accept any alms 
I was giving it, and I was taking it. 

Was it a disaster, a visit from the lake. 
My feet were wet and my eyes were wet.

Satish Verma

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