Poetry

like ether, permeating all space
mesmerizing,
he walked away, head of his enemy
in his hand,

like a trophy?
frighteningly orangish
a decapitated body shudders.

The holy war
demands its price of a joke.
The face of red and blue.

A terrible reminder of a snaky past
that kills the puppets. The hands
dance in air.

The irrepairable, pink wounds
bleed, sweat smoke
of death?



Satish Verma