Sleepwalking

A haunted moon,
sauntered into the woods,
slogging again and again
to pass the gender test.

There was a fear of
abduction. Orange
and blue, where it ought to have
been absolutely white.

I don’t think She can
become a He, shedding
the robes, crossing the time
zones, in hurry.

A moon should
behave in a celestial manner
becoming a fluid lover
to kiss in dark.

Satish Verma