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.