Satish Verma

A dented version of an old grudge, 
blackened lips with an elite song, 
your relentless search ends in 
a terminal shock, nursing a green wound. 

That anguish was still there, and the wild anger 
sprawled on hidden fractures, false teeth, 
and twisted spy glasses. Sky falling silent 
in terrible gloom of centuries. 

Blindfolded we are led for a ceremony 
of total dedication, drinking opiates 
from the cupped hands of a silver god, 
with alien innocence and silent submission. 

I stare at the changing colors of world 
shifting like summer dunes, 
dancing on the graves, in dripping 
dew of midnight moon, salt of tears.