A Divine Interlude Poem by Satish Verma

A lot more has to
be done, when moon
hangs out at the window.

Observing what
was, unknown as if
becoming feral
looking through the black hole.

Dreams were bizarre stones, on
your poor fingers
making palm rich.

Prudery and anguish
will not go together,
when predatory wants a mercy kill.

Leave some afterwords
before the Apocalypse.
Nobody was walking back home.

You can invite the
asteroid to hit the earth.