Deadpan

by Satish Verma

The night calling. I start
the search for survivors.
A loquacious day shuns
the clouds.

A black hole. I move in circles.
A star was going down in an
abyss. To think, was a taboo subject.
A naivete' towards perceiving.

You can keep your eyes open
and not discern any frame.
A hand will not find another
hand in neighbourhood.

There was less sexism without
the chair. The paradox was
nobody wanted to discuss the
markers of malignancy.

The house was up for the sale
deleted from the manuscript.

21-Mar-2013

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