Moon Was Not Rising Poem by Satish Verma

Ask the destroyer
of the day, why did you
cross my path― when the
sun was setting?

A subdued sexuality was ready
to get the answer―
from the ultimate punishment.

Meanwhile I search
the ruins of old empire for salt seepage.
Freedom from bread and roof
was still far away.

The cultish nativity booms.
Who was the inheritor of this―
earth? Are you sure the face
of moon was shrinking.

Why the defence of
blood corporates? Shame
the arousal of hooded king cobra.
Snakecharmer was dead.