Dead Lips

Satish Verma

Flesh by flesh 
bone by bone. 
I am tired of your religion. 

The fake rituals― 
to anoint the sins. 
Meanwhile someone will execute 
the pollen heads. 

Blackbirds will come 
and go in the corridors 
of power to get the plums. 

After a murderous day 
slowly the moon 
rises, to wash out the 
dark stains of earth.