satishverma

NAKED DOLL

The child was trembling inside you: 
eliminated, 
revived, 
walking past an explosion 
on the extra edge. 
The dash was stabbing. 

And without hands 
trying to open the crypt 
of forefathers. 

Things were not happning 
as you dreamed of tomorrow. 
The moon, too, has become a stranger 

Clatter of hoofs 
but no rider comes in sight.

Satish Verma