How To Decipher

Satish Verma

Like a virgin birth, 
a poem floats 
without any pain. 

Superimposes, as if 
on a face, like Mona Lisa, 
with her mysterious smile, 
longing a release from 
the cycle of rebirth. 

Are you going to reperform 
for me, your silent 
surrender, bewildering 
a lost pilgrim? 

Will you become a 
sitter like a moon-faced, veiled 
by crying clouds? I had been 
trying to touch your lips, eyes. 

This vicious assault 
was for me. Stony eyes, and 
the striking hood― 
impel kleptomania.