The Soliloquist

Satish Verma

Stares down, the grey 
moon, fixedly, 
in naked aggression… 
Fire and brimstone. 
I move one step, towards you. In semidarkness 
I have lost the address 
of peace. 

The transgender, stumps 
the ghost. There was no noun, 
no pronoun, only an abstract 
feel. Do you see the 
wooly trail beating the dust? 

When did you hit the dirt road 
not to come back… 
What was undone? After 
the death of the cuckoo, there was 
no wedlock in words.