New Alphabet

by Satish Verma

Can your words find the color
and smell of a manslaughter
in an unholy stampede?

Head bowed, the handcuffed activism
walks on the street. Now pops
up the moon from forficate clouds.

A decoy was sitting on a tree
with a stunning gaze
to watch the lewd behavior

of a mirror engaged with a
self-portrait. Alphabetically
the breast milk spills

before you arrive without
mouth. A celebration
starts today for an unborn.

20-Mar-2013

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