SUICIDE NOTE

One day you will arrive. 
Night will enter in your pores, 
in your bones, 
like a baby trapped in a borewell, 
crying, striking, 
thumping. 

On each table, salt moaned 
for a classical taste. 
A pink moon was smothered 
in a virgin bed. 
Death walked in a sensual style. 

A black discharge continued 
from the areolae. 
Botox failed to uplift 
the sagging breasts. 
A thallium capsule broke on tongue. 

There was no suicide note.

Satish Verma