monostich – Page 88 – elancharan gunasekaran

spring the mist and hills conspire to trap you in their embrace

the view from titan’s crown: blood pools in the valley of the dead

rung after rung the pilgrim climbs the ribs of a decomposing god

flesh yearns for the gentle touch that splits sky and soothes bark

prayer burns behind eyes and turns air to glass mosaics

spring in the absence of light warm seas writhe in anger

you breathe in the last line and wonder if we can skip summer and go straight to autumn

emerald fires learn to rustle dangerously like the leaves of ancient jungles

the thunder long gone maelstrom moths whisper weather into innocent clouds

only the bravest confront the absurdity of existence and cosmic truth in golden ratios