Satish Verma

Where will you go 
when you are not right, 
not wrong? 

And train will not stop 
at your station. You 
have to wait till sunrise. 

Half-mist, half-moon― 
and the glass houses. 
The rocks refuse to fly. 

The consecrated dawn 
on a silent street whispers. 
The city was dead. 

I sleep after the naked 
assault. The black shirts 
and the white shirts have no answer.