TWIST MY HEART AGAIN

Reached, 
not yet pubescence: 
a cloud says, moon was 
crazy, treading on a 
forbidden lake of frozen tears. 

Breaking fast unto death 
for releasing the doves 
in sky of hymns. 

The gametes were weary. 
Procreation will wait. 
Let the dark particles 
start a ceremony of scoops 
to carry the impatient twister 
inside me, 

to pull off the yokes and 
set the flames free.

Satish Verma