ROOTS

It was a beautiful day 
after the storm. 
Fever was rising in branches. 
Severed moons on road 
started listening to explosive-laden 
snow. 


I went for the jugular. 
Why poisoned goats were set free 
for the cougars? 
Existence was a positive sum, 
not the square root of negative numbers. 
One poppy head went for the primary. 


A hybrid of reality and dreams 
I was trying to find my ancestral home 
in the epics of wars. 
When a day ends, I open the fires 
for the night. Time has come 
to become blind.

Satish Verma