Vaulting

Deep inside there was a simian jealousy. The opaque words will raise a burnt-out storm – returning the whole family of white flowers to the moon. The falling inside the bowl before the snake could strike interrupting the dead soldiers of unknown war- weapon-free. A stunning invasion of the spoons in summer months, when sweat was expensive than truth and a sentence was lost between the punctuations. Yet I was going to recite a poem. Satish Verma