FAITHFUL

Basking in brothels of mighty corridors, 
who was seeking an annulment 
of lemon grass for enquiring into the 
genesis of mutilation? 

It was a terrifying situation for 
a smell, drifting on the tarrif of 
polity when fingers were busy 
to dig in the flesh of victims. 

Cleric wants to dictate the rhyme 
of poetry distilled from anger. 
Hundreds of thousands of monarchs were flying 
in defence of dementia. The age was awry of death. 

Close your eyes and listen to the sound 
of melting. Somebody is drawing the green blood. 
Dismembered, I swagger barefoot 
on the steps of black clouds to take revenge.

Satish Verma