India

Your star is coming home, Singing to a police drone, in shelters you lie prone, why do you whisper love, on throwaway 'phones, ravaged face like a glove, saints reveal their bones, poems massage your loans, make you feel secure alone, pearl doves arch above, a lifetime given to moans, fly to those who give, fresh linen and sweet cologne, leaves you on the ropes, you wear a red raincoat, but know how to live, millions come and go, trying to find that gift, anchored in your soul.