Poetry

The night shift starts.
A moonbeam comes and lies
beside me.
 
I was not hungry.
Cuckoo gives a call
I will not raise the flag.
 
The flesh, starts eating you.
Sometimes, for this
unnamed, you run cross-country.
 
Memories flare up.
A primitive wolf sends a howl.
You start reciting a prayer.
 
The age, will not pardon you.
Limbs spring to catch a butterfly.
Noiselessly a door shuts.