DIGNIFIED RETREAT

To cover your inadequacy
you were bending your
consciousness.
Thinking and again thinking for a thing
that was nothing.

Today I am not me
and I want to betray myself.

A low tide moon hangs on a tall tree
I will write a script on solitude
of night.
You don’t want to comeback from your grief.

The fuming sap
cascades between the gnarled shoots of
woody trunk, wasted life.
Stumps my monuments.
The grass burns with rage.

Your landscape makes
a dignified retreat.

SATISH VERMA