SHAMEFUL

Like an alligator tending her eggs 
on tongue, death moves the life 
on strength of charisma, overreaches 

for requiem and then distributes the raw 
moments in subterfuge, we play the game 
to cheat each other without shame. 

A red carpet is laid on white floor 
of the wax house, making gold from 
sun rays. The moon bleeds internally. 

The rivals come face to face walking 
on the ashes of ancestors, ungrieving for the 
loss of sperms. Fertility will come in petri dishes 

without the name of father. I am here, 
nobody, ready to unanswer any question. 
My stains are becoming darker every day.

Satish Verma