satishverma

ZERO HOUR

It was night’s fury 
whipping up hysteria 
on specks of flames, dancing in pain. 

On a heap of ashes 
and bones where a child of death 
will be born. 

Before fading, 
moon will kiss the golden thighs 
of sun and think aloud 
dying shirtless in intimate 
ambit of sky.

Satish Verma