Satish Verma

Sundown, the masks 
come out and a game of 
perfidy begins. 

Words disappear. A 
long pause. You will kill two 
birds with one stone. 
You and ultimate. 

No threats. Only the 
heat and flames of summer. 
In a dark cave, the icicles 
form a white deity. 

The religion of the body 
and flesh, has no god, 
no prayer. 

The candle burns― 
without a wick, melts 
into a blue lake.