THE SAME KIND

Pseudoscrubbing was going on 
the scripted drama, words apart. 
The tears were denied to him 
and the moon slowly made peace on the white 
marble of a cult, 
and the river had scored a victory. 

He was very upset by the absence of 
truth. Stupid god did not stand in the 
witness box to testify the morality of 
man. Genes were deciding the number 
of queens. People were still worshipping 
a pair of black Najas. 

Neanderthal skull marks a step in the 
evolution of art. The jaw bone still juts out 
to define a mafia don. The slit eyes make 
a good pottery class. White poison settles 
in the breasts. An ovarian carcinoma 
now spreads in bones. 

My toes are burning. Cannot walk straight 
I am not here. I am not there. I am not anywhere.

Satish Verma