The Daphnia

The truth of my blood
at the mensal
without prayer and anguish.

Will you be able to
heal the rift between color
and smell?

The other face―
offering the tears in
cupped palm.

The slant eyes will
never know, the end of―
the day under the shadows.

The endemic fugue―
tilts the balance of angels.
The bay tree sends the condolence.

Satish Verma