Cutting Edge

The rocks in water
like words, between
the tears.
Quasi-pain, reverberating
like a river.

It flows―
intermittently. The lava
of an active volcano.
You want to cover
the smashed skull.

The mirror
breaks, under the shock.
It had never happened before.
A nude streaking
on the screen.

The moon had nothing
to offer. Over and spent.
It moves on its axis
ungoverning―
the stars.

Satish Verma