No Coronation Please

Satish Verma

Like toothache. 
Would hear the voices 
of dark. 

No beginning, no end. 
I will not conclude. 
Like the setting sun in west 
dying beautifully― 
without moon. 

It is a chilling confession. 
No offending. Trying to 
understand unmoving lips. 

In my suffering 
there was no faith healing. 
I won't ask your hand. 

Every syntax, regenerates 
the truth of the dirty mind. 

Living amidst the 
dangers of orthopedic blunders 
you cannot walk straight. 

The queen has gone insane.