Satish Verma

Wanting to die young 
hairy and unbaked, 
not telling the truth. 
It was a savage vendetta. 
The crowd was not on your side. 
In manic intensity, 
they shouted― death to the veils 
in holiest dip. 
I repudiate the presumptiveness. 
A super religion gives birth 
to a devil― another godman. 
In chains, I will carry 
a cloud. Very disquieting. 
There was no water. 
The seeds crawl― 
underground in the wake of earthquake. 
Collecting the tears to grow. 
It is a blank summer. 
The fat spiders open the eyes.