A Quiet Night
After the spooky night
there was the
morphean balm.
You pull out the meat
from the bones.
A genteel confession-
keeps tumbling out.
The haunted house
sends forth the tiny ghosts.
It was moon time.
You will drop a torpedo-
to unsettle the stray thoughts.
The geometry
falters. Lines are drawn
to remove the dots.
The skin you left
on the road;
still glows like a smoldering coal.
Satish Verma
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