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.