Adam’s Mend

Satish Verma

The bald mannequin, stands 
undraped, without genitalia 
moving the lips. 

The choreographer walks in 
caressing the knobs 
to open the invisible door. 

There would be knife between the teeth 
and dance in the flames 
to lift up the veil, 

to kill the sorrow and pain. 
A spill from the eyes becomes 
red. The whispers 

will decide the prices. 
Glass case will never be empty. 
Sweet show will continue.