BENEATH THE SKIN

It was not a demigod, elephantiasis 
of a beast, snakes sitting on head. A catastrophic 

tree view.I was proud of being alive during 
carpet-bombing. A catnip was needed to clear 

the vision. The town was moving out shedding 
its landmarks. Nocturnal flares were disturbing 

the lovers. A chronic shift in sex starved 
season. The birds had stopped going behind 

the bushes. Each day seeks permission to bury 
the dead, and grass waits for the noble feet. 

Ultra hemo cover was not there. Drained out 
we were becoming pale to account for the loss 

of blood in cross-firing. Ultimate pain in chest 
will unburden the task of a funeral prayer.

Satish Verma