satishverma

LOST MEANINGS

In mangled bodies 
and severed limbs, 
the blood gives up its claim. 

A twisted window blocks the landscape 
of silvered faces. 
No body talks with moon. 

Night burns the fat 
floats on the dead mouthings. 
Death has the foulest taste. 

Darkness looms overnight, 
very false under the lamp, 
eyelids are closing. 

Dirty maps unfold the mystery 
of religion. The longest book 
has the restless words.

Satish Verma