Jilted

Folder: 
Satish Verma

A fugitive slice of moon 
was preparing to leave. 
From nothingness, tiny thoughts 
flew out like moths. 
I was watching the fall of night. 

The wisdom kills nowadays. 
Everyday a scandal breaks out. 
A child cries endlessly. I might say 
for a logic. Her mother had hanged 
herself from a ceiling fan. 

A celebrity enters the fluid world of pain 
talks to the visionary goddess. Impatience 
was coming to be. Grabs the wounds, 
does not talk, prepares for the funeral 
of human spirit and walks away with hawthorn.