Black River

by Satish Verma

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 is 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?

10-Jun-2013

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