A LASSO

Battle remains between 
white and black, 
a synthetic truth 
and a bald faced hornet. 

Aching violence was spreading 
on moon. I was tossing around 
the stars placing the apostrophe 
in the end. 

There was a conflict in pain 
and the pill. It was a prelude to the 
carrier of a gun. Father was degenerating 
in his son’s boots. 

The social split was widening 
in the gulf of posterity. You dress 
as a bride to receive the punishment 
from the hands of arrogance.

Satish Verma