Poetry

In pinnate physicals, the thing,
moves like a stark terror
savagely. A primal fear

takes over, because dead don’t
speak. The bullet had passed
through chest. Mutiny of dumb

dandelions, lipless voices in the
sea of madness. Search for a missing
truth begins. The mass grave

contains the dried bones of renegades.
You remember the promise? Who said
we will end the war?

Listen, he bows his head, before
the trespassing starts to kidnap the
bed. Jealousy kills the snakes.


Satish Verma