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
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