A Quiet Night

After the spooky night
there was the
morphean balm.

You pull out the meat
from the bones.
A genteel confession-

keeps tumbling out.
The haunted house
sends forth the tiny ghosts.

It was moon time.
You will drop a torpedo-
to unsettle the stray thoughts.

The geometry
falters. Lines are drawn
to remove the dots.

The skin you left
on the road;
still glows like a smoldering coal.

Satish Verma