Vast And Near

Satish Verma

To shut the methane, 
you sent― 
the barbs. The brutal 
assault against the thimbles. 

I will not send the 
edict for withdrawl. 
Even the river 
was thirsty. 

The freaks were 
jumping on the fence. 
An interrupted moon 
was wary of them. 

I will draw a 
sand painting to heal 
the man on the 

The air smells 
like an egg. As you 
run, the mist 
fills your eyes.