SMALL TALK

Surge in hidden chastity 
enters the torch but the enemy 
was within. 

Brown clouds over the black carbon, 
glaciers were melting; 
the assault rifle stands alone in snow. 

This was not ignorance, 
a purposeful denial of white truce 
in the jungle of lizards. 

I would go where nobody wants 
to tread in night. The hanging years 
of marriage gone wrong. 

O my God, tiger at the door, 
demanding a new babe every moon. 
The flesh will extract its own blood. 


Satish Verma