This is the time for the dahlias to shine. All but the purple dahlias are in their second year. The others aged out. In this space that seems to be happening.
NIGHT LIGHT
That cameo was my secret grief.
He will make you sing,the hooded moon.
Not a sacred thing
Kissing the toes of a traveler for fecundity.
In doorway it was between us and them
for bargaining for Dahlias.
Lips unkissed will call for honey from bees.
Eyes will search for a candle.
In alien land of flames and tumultuous desires,
the golden breasts will take revenge.
Satish Verma
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