SMELL OF NOTHING

Driving green fire 
out of melodies. 
It was not make-believe 
not mannerism 
but smell of autopsy. 
A pseudo-elegy starts 
at burial site. 


Frugality of dust 
first decides to go to god 
and then die. 
Race, religion, tribe 
and their foot-soldiers 
had become red 

for lupines. It feels like 
fire of hell. I am drunk 
and I am burning.

Satish Verma