Black WoodsA Poem by Satish VermaThe hanged girls, unraped?
The hanged girls,
unraped? Or the slit throats? What your antennae are sensing? Unlifting the veil, why were you rubbing the stones in dark? Absent seizures. You blink only, without any response. Print your body on the canvas, with cracked hands. The cities are burning. Throw the nets in the river. You may catch a prophet. © 2019 Satish Verma |
StatsAuthor
|