Emotional Resonance

Satish Verma

Sorcery comes handy 
when you start 
beheading the sunflowers. 

The mountain goes bald, 
qualifies for the 
murder. I set a bronze― 

lover on the pedestal to 
arrest the muffled 
voices, coming from silent cries. 

The grace was missing 
from the artifacts, you pluck 
from the freezing lips. 

Stones are falling. 

Millions of words. 

No meaning.