DUALITY

Have you tasted the silk 
in the pit of snakes? 
Exit was not in my fate. 

Winter was kissing my toes 
and spring was blooming down 
in my estranged poems. 

You don’t feel like to wake up 
for ingrained disbelief. 
The fangs were not ready to strike. 

There was diginity in death 
of magnolia. Snow had failed to 
appear at night. 

In the aftermath of the rains, 
the moon climbed up the hill 
to bid farewell to virgins.

Satish Verma