a moonache levitates
on blue lake
you shot me at close range
predictable encounter
the whole truth had plunged
between two eyes
self flagellation
of the waves on beach
i was walking on marigolds
your body becomes a flute
when i was writing an epilogue
on the life of a gold leaf
it was raining on the rose
like gnawing illicit drops
on the upper lip of a virgin
Satish Verma
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fugitive-swan/
