TRAVAILS OF VIVISECTION

The future dubs.
A pride is shattered.

The philanderer moon
sprawls over the
candlewick.

A ghost walks
through the wall.

A thin blade of
grass, holds the sun
for ransom.

Fireflies flutter in head
savagely.

I was not able to sleep.
What was the theme of the murder?

No sugar, no salt
was worthy of death.

Satish Verma