Colloquy

Will you wait for me
till the moon parts the clouds
and the lake looks serene?

A reticent encounter;
I want to speak through-
silence. A shadow play will do.

Mystic nights weave-
a conspiracy. The insects
hover like words.

A lamp? No I will
burn my bridges to illuminate
the river.

Between the math-
and a story lies
the bloody corpse.

Satish Verma