Mixed Voices

You break me up,
with a tinge of salt―
playing with your god.

Like a new moon
talking to sky,
nixing the old bed―
leaving behind the baby steps.

Unvisited words
cause deep ripples.
You were climbing a tall autumn.

Wasn't it the malefic
effect of Mars on the trembling
legs of a pilgrim?

Having no-reservation,
curse of dismantling a pyramid
looms large.

I was not afraid
of half-lion, half-human.
Root suckers were happy.

Satish Verma