High Moon

Satish Verma

Not the words, 
you were burning the papers 
sideways. It was a public domain 
someone was drowning a child 
in a milk pot. 

And the half-past moon, 
iodine level was rising in ocean. 
On the beach, the dancing sand 
throws up the dead horse 
after dysfunctionality. 

Pray for the bleeding sun, 
its golden mane has inspired 
the mimicry of a leaf. The grass hopper 
is going to find the secret 
of chlorophyll.

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