Bemoaned
By Sayani Mukherjee
The dripping drizzle of first summer dawn
The leftover pansies bloomed to its core
I sang my morning symphonies
Under the Greenberg oak
The saddle of lost promised land
The beaded sanctuary
Waiting to be engulfed
A waning stormy moon
To questions and narrated agonies
A sea storm rained over
Purging silhouettes under it’s dark cavern
It bemoaned a devilish streak
As if hanging under the churches of revelation
The green oaked smile
Spoke to me
It’s hands are gripping wet a cement of laugh
A lull under the southern choir.