Poetry

Step aside.
The white flowing mane
was going to become the adrenaline.
Fear of silence was turning into a green wound.

The dissenting life-blood has vandalized
the moon. There was a provocation
from the black stars. The leopard
was ready to tear open the zoo.

The outreach was a puzzling thing.
Who was responsible for rearing
the panthers in captivity? The tail, the claws,
the teeth were vulnerable.

I was sick of pretentions. Every act
had a motive of loss or gain. Night or day
the sphinx always looms large. You can
walk in, to talk to coffin.


Satish Verma