IMAGES

Bending the fluid anger, it was coming: from 
anthills to natural selection, the sexual drive of a violenne; 

invasive, brutal, the testosterone chasing wet thighs, 
the night sweats. Kleptomania rising; castration 

or helium filled masks for assisting suicides were 
mutilating genes. Multiasking for eugenics? Hate and revenge 

hangs a body on the turret of a tank, a wrong 
for wrong. A little crown, winged pollens scattered 

on brittle areola, the milky way shying away from midnight 
sun. The toppled vision in blindness of a tribe 

unearths the skeletons of mass murders; the 
fanatics changing the face value of truths. 

Images do not leave the temples.

Satish Verma