Who Wears The Mantle Of War

Satish Verma

I will pick up the dust in 
a swift scoop-from where 
the stars fell and step out, 
of the shadows of light. 

A détente begins, between 
the limbs and eyes, to hold 
in check the flames 
licking the doors. 

How far was the moon 
beyond the money's reach? The 
man has bared the― 
earth's womb, with skulls questioning. 

The sucked out blue lake 
runs for the shade of wandering 
clouds. We divide the thick 
silence with unspoken abuses.