The occult was scrounging
in stringent way
to resurrect the past.
No answer. There will never be
an answer. Where questions stand
an answer was not there.
Acquittal in setting sun. Endless
love making had passed
with the moon. We will not-
recreate the bronzed body.
Night, curse and a tale of
purple, pink horse, accepting
a libation for the penile
god. A savior was present
to watch the ceremony of surrender.
The serpent was ready to bite.
Satish Verma
