Ancient Sins

Drunk with pride the streets are bursting in self-indulgence. Who was calling the shots ? Do you know the words between intermissions, carry a secret- till the brazen scoop finds the hidden meaning. It was grave very grave truice, unmaking love between the estranged lovers- when clouds were seducing the moon. You don’t belong to this crowd of renegades. Ants will take away the divorced dreams. • Fissile belly has started showing signs of reckoning. A gloom has settled, gyrating in a sunken garden for the hung corpses. Never cruel were the times before when blind needles were unstitching the lips of frozen faces. I refuse to start a prayer till the grass covers a silent tomb. Last night it had rained on the private flesh. It was full of semen. You do not belong to this world of pregnant pause. Satish Verma