Damned


Discarded, on a heap of broken
ceramics, a rotten tooth wants an
award, for biting the snake.
Who was pulling the strings?

The temper of a black moon
beguiles the sun. The green-pathway
was hidden under the rock.
Who was holding the baby?

I am again bewitched by my own
failures. Searching my legs under
the bush, my wooden self cries.
Who was asking the question?

Submitted by Satish Verma.

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