Some Sequelae

The bald eagle's pain.
Man-made monument
of cruelty. Summer was drawing
near. The black noon.
Waiting to bring to life,
sleeping cacti.

You have lost your
home. In sand storms. So
you will find shade under
the long tresses.

And eyebrows were arched
skywards. You purse your
lips to start chewing the blood
words. Crazy pain―
I did't ask you to come back.

You be my death. I
will sleep in your lap. You
stroke my poems.

Satish Verma