Satish Verma

A visible evil stands 
upright. I did not want to 
die before the death. 

My needs were small and few 
but I am at peace, breaking 
water without shaming the earth. 

I will now make a moon 
out of the mystery of mass cremation 
of rose buds. 

The small recess of the soul 
mends the wall of the flesh to become 
a stable house. 

The black crypt, maintains 
a secret. Here lived a wounded 
soldier once upon a time.