Poetry

You tend to ostracize the apparition
setting the real culprit free. It does not matter
to pretend now, a damaged house
has become a burden.

Who was playing the enmity card?
Hammered, eyes wide open I start documenting
the deceit of a parrot flower. Your past
had become the shackles, not the road map
of family.

An enormous hate was buried in your trees.
O death-trap, the bees will not come to your
flowers. Your gifts are lying around me
unattended. I will ask no more any pardon.


The moon has walked away. My sky
was unanswerable. The theater will play
another star-crossed brand names.


Satish Verma