Unbecoming

A gunny sack was full of bleached skulls. 
What now? Do I attend the auction 
of mortal wounds in hidden valley of dust? 
The arsenal of seductive weapons was a snub 
to your culture when the fall of extremes 
was overlapping the sunset of empire. 

I am going to take my walk in the hell of fire 
raging in petunias. The emotions are becoming 
volatile after the rape of a child. Is there any 
medicine for rape? Nowhere on earth, the violence 
stops moving shirtless. The dead century hangs 
from the eyelashes, traces the dried up tears. 

Some people think, bricks are weightier than 
truth. They burn the buses under a weeping 
willow. A high caste god will not glaze beyond 
the frozen lake of crutches. Belongings on a 
striped road vanish in books. A hate gift 
drops on tulips.

Satish Verma