Schism Poem by Satish Verma

After being robbed
you want to hide your
poverty, like sex.
Someone is going to flaunt
the kisses of moon.

The sinking of twin islands
in lake begins. Claspers
were poised to hold on the tree-
house. The privacy was
threatened. Nobody will conceive tonight.

The erotica wins, temple fails.
A lone wolf smells the wind,
invades the obscene closet of
a god to find locusts
riding on each other devouring
one's own.