DON’T THROW THE BOMB

They will not come down 
with branding iron and bobbing stings. 
Instead. 
we will walk down the earth, 
to meet the silence 
in half-lit homes of enemies. 

This poverty 
of pause 
and peeling off from giants of 
fences. I send a green rose to you 
from trembling hands, 
to smell the death of half-truths. 

The bridge has collapsed. 
We start digging up for the bodies 
beyond curtain of bricks and stones, 
the iron-grids of flower gates.

Satish Verma