An Acid Rain

This is it, I want to say. An acid rain falling each evening and you, reading a poem surrounded by flame – attendants. Nothing moves farther than activism. Conversation centers around the flares on the surface of an orange sun, a big hole coming up in the ozone layer. You are an ocean, needs penetration of inquiry. Running a relay race in a big cage to keep the torch burning. Clouds in the sky objecting to full moon, coming up, nonchalantly. Landscape rips – off the ideas from the thorn in the heart. SATISH VERMA