NEW VERSION

even vultures will not devour the proffered 
war time victims, ruined was the impression 
of untitled sacrifice, a wild anemone 

slips into the river of blood, I tend to forget 
the faces of embers – 

arson by apostles of peace, it has become a commodity, 

oppression releases a promise for optic illusion 
through large-prints 

a near miss when the truth chokes to death, 
suicidal full of nerves- 

the hills tremble in anticipation, lambs 
were dropping dead on a green patch 

such obligation

Satish Verma