To Full Moon

Sometimes,
you let it go,
the uneven fall of the tempest.

Which body,
would you turn on,
now; after inhaling―

the jessamines? An
overpowering instinct,
takes hold of you―

to death wish. I want
to make you sit
before me and ask―

why have you fallen
in love with a
fireball. A hidden mystery―

unflolds now. We knew
each other’s gift
of summer, hurting without knowing.

Satish Verma