UNATTENDED

Evening wore a floral dress. 
Blue birds announced their departure 
opening red wings. 

You know them, buffs 
of night who would not wait for the moon 
to rise and I had nothing to hide. 

These tragic toes 
black with gangrene 
still want to mount on red clovers. 

That anatomy of desire 
will dance with snakes. Who knows 
the beautiful anxiety of lying on hawthorns?

Satish Verma