Killing Zone

Satish Verma

If you walk straight under the 
shadow of moon, to the salt lake 
death will blow a long whistle. 
Everything was ruined in war of words. 

There was no peace in the heart, 
even after meditation, the mind 
drove for the flesh, caressing neither 
blameless womb nor Oedipus. 

The dead forefathers goad the hypocrisy 
till the blood spurts out from 
the black navel of centuries 
and the forgiveness stands naked.