Choking

Like a quivering leaf climbing 
unreachable thighs of a cloud 
in naked shelter of sun. 

I lament the fall 
of a colossus 
who would not live in a glass house. 

Ash smeared on face 
a name walks on the book 
of barefoot poems. 

Today I am going to morph 
into a death sentence 
for an uncommitted crime. 

Who had lost himself 
in unslept awakening 
of a disaster?

Satish Verma