Transmutation

The single purple moon
was cruising non-chalantly.
You come out at the window─
and hit the headlines.

Put on hold, my existential
being. I am becoming
non-existent. The abundant
mental ills, become a cause.

Do you agree on this verdict?
It comes back to haunt you,
Your past. The black hope dis-
membering you. You come─

out finally to declare the murder.
I am waiting in the wings.

Satish Verma