Enormous Guilt

Satish Verma

Cannot stare 
coming on terror radar. Every night there 
was Celsius rise in deadpeace. The climate 
debt of a dark cloud was changing. 

What is going to happen, tell me blindfolded. 
We have a never or nothing attitude. The 
roads were on edge, grazing under a blood 
spinning midnight lamp, like a whipped 

up cream of convenient truths. A subterranean 
anger was banging against the wailing 
wall. We did little in our synchronized 
failure. Nobody was going to blink. 

A tooth was smashed by a flying missile 
of a homegrown myth. The glacier was 
shy of a black fire. A holy moon becomes 
opaque in white winter.