The Mosaic

by Satish Verma

A leopardess dies on a tree.
No molestation was reported.
Exploring your breast
why were you throwing salt?

As if almost needing a space
you ran to top. A solid truth
looks like a quasicrystal
against the nature.

Unbosoming myself I am
traveling in vacuum. Empty
hands don't hold any ancestors.
I am carrying my unborn voice.

Now don't cry, don't. You are
reaching home at the end of a
tunnel. A featureless fog will let you in,
in a fatherless world.

03-Mar-2013

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