Flickering

A chalky midnight
I wait for the sound of
flapping winds.

A celestial embrace
with your duality.
Are you wearing my shoes?

The blood wears a coat
of dreadlocks. I
want to return to my soul.

Will not touch you
but always think about
the dialect of contours.

A death wish of a mountain
flower was to shed the seeds
in the lap of a dandelion.

Satish Verma