FRUGALITY

wanted to send a call to me 
sitting in a flowing traffic of life, a sinister, 
sadistic happiness to see the disasters 

coming home, in triangle of death, 
for visitation of a nihilistic visual, the wedding 
of taxidermal violence, at scope of frugal 

clay, moulding the age of anxiety 
because there were enough girls to be raped 
and hunger was disconnecting the tribes 

in camps, the bunkers were safe haven 
for daunting, unremembered prodigal sons; 
the vultures were dying daily, 

you were outcast, a sleepwalker in dark, 
confronting the boundaries of labiate palms

Satish Verma