Spotlessly

It was the day of
dead patriarch.
I was fondling an echidna.

The home was
carried away in the─
storm. Must find a broom.

On the remains─
of a burned-out soul.
A hope sits on the altar.

A piano drenched in rain─
will not sing in the gale.
The sky will collapse─

one day, I will bring
back the bluebird,
for a revenge.

Satish Verma