Between Hunger and Escape
Listening to your moans,
between broken stances of naked
stardust; we were afraid of each other.
In midnight blue of doubts
never asked for the voice;
it comes on its own if you shed the pain.
The hostility burns further:
the hunger, in round beseeching eyes
of a crawling child ; I am becoming very mawkisk.
The white lies of black hair,
mother will not sleep in frost of tongues.
A prayer for black limbs to bend.
The thing, mauls the history
of beautiful tears, the chemistry of blood
was changing, uncaught.
SATISH VERMA
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