While drinking the long night
you became taller than the eternal
question, bitten by the moon.

Witchhunting will not stop
in oligarchy. A human right
stands on the ivory gate to enter the dust.

The weightlessness is paraded
nude amongst the full-lipped
follies of ornamental speech.

The duende was lacking in palace.
Rivals held the moonlight.
Now the muse will become celibate.

A giant mantis hops on a podium
to bless the dying god, and the candle
burns whole night.

Satish Verma