NOBODY WEEPS

On the street between the impeachment 
and castle a divine release was being 
enacted engaging the durable peace in seething winter. 
A somber black cloud of smoke was 
slowly reclaiming the sun. 

A disgraced militant was pounding his chest 
for not killing priceless bees 
who were initializing the flowers of Aden. The 
death was laid out in a row before the child 
was born. Dead prophets were watching from the eyes of dolls.

Satish Verma