Gliding

Was it altruistic, donating
the light to the
data-catchers?

Sexing at the crack of
dawn, when you
were still a primate?

Let a requiem begin
for the repose of undead
souls, writhing in life.

Draped in skin, the
hungered crowd, comes
for a dip in confluence.

The frail sky now falls
in the river. there will─
be no prayer today.

Satish Verma