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Sleepwalking
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Satish Verma A haunted moon,
sauntered into the woods,
slogging again and again
to pass the gender test.
There was a fear of
abduction. Orange
and blue, where it ought to have
been absolutely white.
I don’t think She can
become a He, shedding
the robes, crossing the time
zones, in hurry.
A moon should
behave in a celestial manner
becoming a fluid lover
to kiss in dark.
