The Great Decline

Abetting the suicide of
a bystander, your impacted
diamond, downs the hips.

What had you done to
me? I will not hold you responsible
for the ache.

There was the aging moon,
still lingering in the―
crack of dawn.

I don’t close the door.
Will wait for the big question
from the exotic death―

of dark matter, which
defied the relationship
of unique absurdities.

Satish Verma