Poezja

scape without a name
scepter of a colossus
merge in a yellow boom
between hunch and a knife,

to keep shut the glassy lips
from red stares
a secret of an anonym
scripting sunset

the stacked neurotransmission
of millions of texts
with quietus
not to return back without the foe’s skull

a hollowness reverberates
while indifference talks
of moon’s lair
nor a dwindling shoulder–


and the tigers have disappeared
from sanctury

Satish Verma