Poetry

Vexed at a long sit in,
after collision
we will meet at a canal
in the watery grave.
You believed in philosophy of giving
I would apologize for the slaughter of babies.

Pink dolls
I wished to know why they were thrown
on a bank of the river.
The maroon red water
wanted to snub the lawmakers.
Step out from bloody arm badges,

there was no hope to count
the death toll. Abandoned lies
the face of god in mud.
Paper name for the dead child
paper name for the living father.


Satish Verma