Pardon My Darkness

Folder: 
Satish Verma

You always said, violence 
was in you. Everything was dying 
around. 

There was a tacit understanding― 
enacted, 
interceding with― 
a lasso. The baked silence 
always stares at you. 

I have no praise, 
no condemnation for anyone. 

Inevitably you suck the moon, 
your thumb, 
your blood. 

A poem falls on the ground 
to breathe again.