Black Script Poem by Satish Verma

After the skin, the corti
were trying to measure the silence
before the cloudburst.

The white noises were
very accurate, disciplined shouts
ready to pull down the stapes.

A cochlear fall from the
great heights of vesuvian peak.
No matter how big was the chasm.

You have given up yourself
to broken stirrups. The planets
begin the dance without the god Apollo.

The road never ends. The
rider stands alone to ride the moon
gliding over the empty sea.