Blackness of Moon

You walk out from the bruises, like a late bloomer, for a clandestine affair with indigo pain. I break the barrier, and teach myself, how not to make an incendiary bomb. A cohort will untie the barbed wires. Now you can tread carefully on fire ants, undaunted. While stitches will take care of the woundless blood. A hoax sends you scurrying, to find the golden apple, which never emerges in light. In despair you commit a crime. Satish Verma