Poezja

Among the crania, clouds allowed
a variation of sky. The hominids
stood up and started a stride, with
long steps towards noxious future.

The cobalt was emitting radiation
turning you black, melting your bones,
suppressing the marrow. On the thigh
climbs the holocaust.

A child in polythene, O golden god
you have killed the man by giving him
the gifts. The sand-pit, I am buried
alive in it before I understood.

Of stones, a voice was rising. Do
we address the deep water disappearing
fast in the mind? A projectile to
be worshipped?

Satish Verma