Death Was Lucky

Satish Verma

I will find another 
indigo in you, when you 
were linked to exercising talons. 

Stealing my moons, 
for a rapturous choke, 
I was being observed. 

A face off begins 
on the stage of life, between 
wrecked ego and collective guilt. 

Thumbs severed off. Ghosts 
of war are mushrooming. 
A winter crop was becoming rich. 

Only god knows, why 
singingbirds were silent. 
October was not very cool, and 
big tears were not flowing. 

The unparalleled blood 
was becoming thinner.