The Earthen Death

Satish Verma

staring into a void- 
for a door, 
burning a sage. 

Wearing a veil to ward off 
the curse. 

You start the baby steps 
getting there, near the noose, 
weighing the planks. 

Now you are breathing fast, 
getting a hit, counting 
the hymns. 

The corrupt booms 
rise and fall. 
An overt withdrawal 
from the bet, to sacrifice the bliss. 

White lilies washed, 
in tears, let down the shawls. 
You can see the holy vice.