Satish Verma


There was no space between 
the bonsai. 
You were growing in a flat 
tray, spreading horizontally. 
The plain glitter of absence 
brings the unorder. You─ 
want to start a riot among 
the fallen leaves of an autumn. 
A civil war between words. 
They were fighting without guns. 
There are no comments, no 
judgement. Only blood in the kitchen. 
The surrogates were presented. 
Are you ready to call the shots?