Pramod Lad

Fault

Argue not the fault. Reflexive synchrony
In denial. Fault lines, my dear, are fractures
Between two solid rocks, destined to lock,
Rub, burn in friction, until they cannot stand
Stress. One slip. That silent, uncanny
Crumble.  Subduction not seduction. Nature
Of hard ground is to give ground.  Unlock
Without quaking? But will she understand 
 science spells the worst? The ground
Is mere sly slender cover for a restless,
Mantle half solid, half liquid, never in sync,
Temperamental chaos without bound. 
Can’t we unlock gently with a kiss? 
Love, they say, heals faults. Let us not sink.

Pramod Lad was born in India and has a Ph.D. in Biochemistry from Cornell University.  He was a scientist at the National Institutes of Health. His poems have been accepted in wilderness house, The Examined Life Journal, Right hand pointing, Omentum, Eclectica magazine, The Innisfree poetry journal, The Umbrella Factory, Pulsebeat Poetry Journal, Pennine Platform, Litbreak Magazine, Amethyst Review, Soul Forte, Creations Magazine, Austur Literary magazine, Closed Eye Open, Waxing and Waning, neologism, and verse virtual.