VANITIES

Was that a robot 
claiming friendship 
with the relics of past? 

Or a quirk of a raw nerve 
conversing with history: 
and we will wait for centuries 

to build a new scream 
under the pale moon 
in wingless night. 

Whispering sex to flowers, 
bees scrambled on the skin 
of wooly leaves.

Satish Verma