For a moonshine,
there was no moon.
There was no moon
for a moonshine.
It starts a tenuous
soliloquy, raising a
slew of questions.
Slew of questions will
evoke a mixed response.
Were you ready for
a sleepover at the shrine
to watch the St. Vitus's dance.
It was leaking at night
from the corner of eyes.
Unaging was the secret
of polity. Are you in?
Satish Verma