Black River
The supermoon was rising with
a great aplomb to shame the stars.
At night the buttercups wage a war.
Come unpretending, as you, not him,-
on the lake, becoming a stranger to
yourself. There ia an endless nocturnal confession.
Do you know the poison tree blooms,
when the golden eagle rises to take a dive
on the row of funerals.
Satish Verma
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2013
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