Serendipity

by Satish Verma

There was no space between
the bonsai.

You were growing in a flat
tray, spreading horizontally.

The plain glitter of absence
brings the disorder. You

want to start a riot among
the fallen leaves of an autumn.

A civil war between words.
They were fighting without guns.

There are no comments, no
judgement. Only blood in the kitchen.

The surrogates were presented.
Are you ready to call the shots?

14-Dec-2015

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