UNBELIEF

A detritus 
of malaise, tugs at my solitary hour. 
There was a question of stature 
amongst the old fractured feet. 

What was it which made you feel 
taller than your own son? 
I was looking at the antlers of a deer, 
his round eyes were full of pallor, 
I begin to talk in his tongue. 

The terror of a man, a speeding car, 
my childhood, moving in the dark corridor, 
afraid of the unending highways.

Satish Verma