Poetry

Living against the food amnesia
gold bricks call for austerity
in passage of the hunger.

Canons hanging in their necks
it was the silence of death.
Whispers were floating in night.

The bodies will free us from
gold cure, tasting the forbidden salt
of stale lead of spices.

We will forget the color of lips
when you cry. Time falls
like a dead sparrow on faithless head.

When you hold a hollyhock
I look at the crescent moon
who was taking a shower after disrobing.


Satish Verma