Not Prurient

Satish Verma

Becoming fiercly personal 
with no physical contact, 
the crescent moon 
ultimately occults the Venus. 

The grazer now turns into 
fugitive. Was not the knower, 
was not the known. 

No past, no future, you 
move with your eyes down 
to deny the assault, the flirtation. 

Your silence was 
unthinkable. I will bring home 
the dead. Light is gone. The 
slapper sleeps. 

In emotional agony I 
start prowling for the body.