What You Said

Sperms spilled on thighs When moon was hung over trees To engage reverberations, Contesting erratic moods Outside echoes Stitching white milk into black tears, It was not for the deliverance From pain of separation And drink the eyes: The waves died in immensity Somewhere a dolphin dips in mind To pick up the music Of fences, separating ethos And gossips of terrified oceans Searching the sunken ship. SATISH VERMA