Sick Times

Satish Verma

And how shall we trace the 
trajectory of a lungless scream 
coming out of a slit throat? 
Time was overrun by gnostic 
resentment in absolute mind. 

The fury of a gathering food riot: 
do you hear the memorial rising, 
rising – 
on bones of hunger, swollen eyelids? 
Soon they will meet on the bellies. 

The fumigation starts, of lies 
a bactericidal, to wipe out the germs 
in dumb minds. The prognosis failed, 
life moves in a tunnel, absent 
and present!