Poetry

A solid belief of karmic influence becomes
fluidus
but life was questioning again.

You take to wars
with thousand of nukes:
still the daffodils were dancing.

Float me on the bodies of bullet ridden
moons and clouds:
the red river, spiteful, has changed the course.

Ah, the snaky hate
hisses with split tongue.
Mockery of towers plays again.

The dumb leather did not forget
the shape of the baby.
million needles were still crawling.

Thick boundaries were steaming hard.
All nipples, no furs to walk
on the flames.


Satish Verma