white lotus
now stung thrice
by a self centered bee,
could you ever forgive me?

don’t say a prayer
for me now,
as three roller coaster trips
down unknown uteruses
await

more skulls
for that crescent bearer
adorning a blue throat
to wear as a garland
as he waltzes
his way through
the raging funeral pyres
of the cremation grounds
in soul filled Varanasi

© 2021