A Secret Self

Satish Verma

Every night this body 
becomes a dissecting knife 

a crime scene of blood 
and unstrung flesh, 

the lamb spreads the wool 
for a deadly charge of skull plate 

with a gift of mathematics 
a moon cutout in sky 

before the shadow of myth in the depth 
of tortured chemistry: 

the endless nothing will kiss the darkness 
my blindness becomes a diet.