In Depression

Satish Verma

Your face swims like 
a myth. 

Night spreads the veil 
of a cloud on the 
white breast of moon. 

No family. Words 
move in different tacks. 

Water heals, when 
your feet were sore. 

Soya beans. You have roasted 
them alive in jumpsuits. 
The faith becomes a devil. 

The black eye 
waits for the rain to 
wash the racial smudge.