Of Revenge

Satish Verma

Half night of insomnia 
half night magma 
you never go quiet. 

Tremors of blaze 
enter the veins. 
Moon was crazy. 

The graveyard. 
First you dig up the hole. 
Shot, then you are tossed inside. 

A copper in the tank, 
you sleep past the belly. 
Vessel in vessel, you are dead. 

Like a relic, you carry 
your head, looking chasing 
the cottonwood tree.