Satish Verma
Dust
Creeping in waking night
was fear of fear
and you wanted to accept the defeat
retreat,
It gives you solitude of
blank space, featureless.
The terrorist mask of blazing guns
bribing the absent gods,
for whom you are aiming?
The holy man on road
fakes,
crushing the grass
lilies getting flattened under the giant wheels.
Moving an bloody toes
festering heels
carrying the sacred earth under the nails
all night.
peeling the time, throwing the skn
and waiting
for the dust to settle.
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