Satish Verma

A dynast in the storm-razed 
polity will ask─ 
for a pardon. 

By choice there was 
no suicide. You will 
eat the clouds one day. 

Taking the brunt, ─ 
living near the sea of 
people, a window goes shut. 

Curtly, with 
levitation, the wind 
twists, one and everybody. 

An owl tattoo, will 
tell it all. The hurricane 
has reached your door. 

Aftermath was a 
conspiracy of silence. 
Every one was speaking of landfall.

Satish Verma