A Quiet Night

by Satish Verma

After the spooky night
there was the
morphean balm.

You pull out the meat
from the bones.
A genteel confession

keeps tumbling out.
The haunted house
sends forth the tiny ghosts.

It was moon time.
You will drop a torpedo -
to unsettle the stray thoughts.

The geometry
falters. Lines are drawn
to remove the dots.

The skin you left
on the road;
still glows like a smoldering coal.

01-Feb-2014

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