Some Rehearsals

by Satish Verma   Mar 26, 2022


Talking to moon tonight,
in windless night.
You begin? to reflect? the past.

I pretend? I am gifting you
my poems, while bleeding?
from the eyes.

You will not read,
even once, the steaming tears of stones,
when the volcano?
spews its molten grief.

I am gifting you today, forever?
my summers.

Snow will rush into my veins.
I freeze at once, in memories
of the lone, stark naked, yew tree
laden with red berries.

Not poisonous, I am gifting you
my death.

Take me in your solitude!

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