Fish Ladder

Like a snake
it moves.
My poem.

You are not, what you were
in the night, lightning
the grey moon.

I hear, what you
did not say or did―
not think.

Even dark
forebodings, move like red
ants, from the slit eyes.

I cover the faults
via songbird, which
was calling, desperately,
unwaitingly.

Satish Verma