Muttering by Satish Verma

Miranda: 
talk to your restive soul, 
elementally abstract. 

Home – 
was minimal comfort, 
for the flying birds. 

Clock, 
to explode today 
on your face. 

You were eying 
the bride, 
in turbulent sky. 

Who had 
brought the moon 
at Agave’s feet?

Satish Verma