A Cracked Visit

Satish Verma

The other sex was stapled, 
I started unfolding the secret: 
what was static and who was silent. 

I searched, therefore I was lost 
before the end of journey. 
The stench of grafting was taking over. 

The incendiary recce was carried out 
to shut out the voice of the street 
in the melting snow. 

Lake will find the woods for disquieting 
sleep of muse under the blue-lipped moon, 
and I will face my night.