At Crossroads Poem by Satish Verma

I become your past
in some confrontations
trying to hear you.

The lexicon gives me
a path to go in the quiet of
night, when you are sleeping
in moon's arms.

What a dream. A
white tiger jumps on the
pink belly of earth to
find the browless eye.

Standing before the
firing squad, you were
still planting the lilies
and iris will go blind
for thousand years.


The coral reef has
started dismantling.