A Perilous Journey

A Poem by Satish Verma

For a moonshine, there was no moon.

For a moonshine,
there was no moon.
There was no moon
for a moonshine.

It starts a tenuous
soliloquy, raising a �"
slew of questions.

Slew of questions will
evoke a mixed response.

Were you ready for
a sleepover at the shrine
to watch the St. Vitus’s dance.

It was leaking at night
from the corner of eyes.

Unaging was the secret
of polity. Are you in?