DiscoveryA Poem by Satish VermaAs I accept the verdict, the dead-soul beast―
As I accept the verdict,
the dead-soul beast― jumps up, draws out the sword and starts cutting the drift. You shout, wake up from a nightmare. The words had betrayed. Vowel harmony was gone. Voice hoarse, you stammer, accusing the city, the country the century. It was consensual. The suicide pact. Cloth and body, print and color. Paper and pen, bed and grave. The moon had kicked out the feline. The insomnia, now rules. You start counting the sins. No stress, no indecency, sleeping with dead poems. A big explosion changes the fonts. You go into long sleep. © 2018 Satish Verma |
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