A Quiet Night

Satish Verma

After the spooky night 
there was the 
morphean balm. 

You pull out the meat 
from the bones. 
A genteel confession- 

keeps tumbling out. 
The haunted house 
sends forth the tiny ghosts. 

It was moon time. 
You will drop a torpedo- 
to unsettle the stray thoughts. 

The geometry 
falters. Lines are drawn 
to remove the dots. 

The skin you left 
on the road; 
still glows like a smoldering coal.

Satish Verma