Sharks

They manipulated the words to cross the corridors of essence. Crib was empty, child was stolen. At blood stained altar there was no clue to mystical death. The contents now matter. Time displays tools of murder, snaps the sheet from the bed, kills the neophyte at water hole, unsucked breast swells, weeps endlessly. Apes are coming. Duplicates look brilliant like novae. It was becoming crowded. Becoming was destroying the matter. Fear moves in water, on the earth. Faraway a cuckoo sings a saddest song. Come, belong to my tears, drops of my soul’s vessel, kiss the eyes of planet earth. SATISH VERMA