Gladius

It was a dangerous mix of midriff and moons. A nude goddess was riding a tiger. Moralization. I will not allow my peaks to fail me. I was running on the road to salvation. It cuts across the flames, then the zilch, poised for becoming a rag-picker. The pseudo-lies were half-truths. The alienation was hung in air, in graveyard and homes. Now the sun follows me in dark. It was nothing short of a miracle, eating the forbidden fruit and lying still in the company of hydrangeas and drinking nothing. Tears and salt displace the clouds. Satish Verma