KISSING GODS

When we slept through our 
naked loops, there was a silent call. 
Moon was out walking on the street 
peeping through the glass window, 
the crossed legs. 
Trees were meshed up in dark. Do you 
know the impropriety of leaves, climbing 
on each other? Dogs inbreeding? Incestuous in camera. 
The elixir of life. Recycled urine. We 
were not crying. It was the urgency 
to die to challenge the infinity. 
We get paralysed. Our legs will not 
move on fallen skulls. Blood was everywhere. 
The terrorists on terrace, negotiating for a massive 
ransom. This interwar was wholesome. The 
hysterical confusion breaks us apart 
and morgue was full of kissing gods.

Satish Verma