Gray Hands

It is neither end nor beginning, I am
still suspended between punishments, primrose
gives one answer, hollyhock another, I
catch the moon in flight to west and
enter a sand grain to probe the universe

for the sexual selection of a terror bomb,

harbinger of mass destruction, give me some
asparagus to uproot the cancer for the sake
of a humane evolution: bougainvilleas are

not blooming and in twilight I wait for the two
eyes of a panther which start blazing in a dark cave,

she was expecting to deliver her first progeny
of gentle cubs

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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