SINGLE DESIGN

Bearded face still looks from 
the severed head, in timeless gaze 
after the spitting blast. A nimbus cloud 
is lobbed on the tormentor to stop burning; 

the silver urn contains the daisy sick 
to wean away the enemy of tender shoots 
of tall trees. Blue mercury is wildly oscillating 
like boneless mast of sunken ship. 

The avenger of younger cyclones, we lost 
our grains in high noon on towring houses; 
the rivers changing the course to submerge 
the golden bells of masses and white flags 

a new born is not lifted from the dust, a time 
tries to become bodiless in a glassed dome 
touchless, smell less, only skulled myself 
in mutilating mud of black tapestry.

Satish Verma