STONING DARK

What was the ethics of homefires 
when homeostasis had gone awry? 
There were no concrete truths. 
I will not wear the lies instead
like fly ash on my bloodied shirt. 

The old habits die hard; 
the beds of flesh and bones, carry the 
strange innocent meanings of heavy 
eyelids which could not beat the silk 
of green eyes of a sun. 

A miracle was needed to undo the 
thighs of mermaid who went to sleep on the 
rocks of jealousy. The sky-blue flames 
rise again from the navel of infidel love 
who had inherited the golden moon. 


Satish Verma