LAST WORDS

Like an asterisk
I adjure you to fly like an
eagle, on the wings of light.
The poems are ready to become
jealous;

an attempted murder
went awry, subscribing to water.
I swallow the hemlock without
any effort. Intoxicated, I move in a jungle
of knives -

where the tenderness is at stake.
You tremble with closed eyes. The
mutation had failed. Among the
shoulders the night sits and calls
it a day.

Satish Verma