Poems by
Anand Vasu


a poem by Anand Vasu

I sit atop the piercing light house,
with an authentic body; high;
looking down on the shiny water slicked roads
the occasional pair of head lights cuts the liquid darkness
in response the ships quiver star like on the horizon
my gaze is cornered by the sea
larger than the eyes; scope.
She calls me,
sending sheets of inviting fingers scuttling across her sandy thresholds,
the smiling foam hisses reassuringly
the inebriate air presses me from all around.
I’m swayed.
I drift walk down the spiral staircase
till the full solid floor forbids me from descending further
my feet place themselves in front of each other
and I’m drawn closer.
don’t be scared. it’s time to come back home; she crashes
and lulls; put down your pen. just merge.