satishverma

WANDERER

It was a taxidermal view 
thousands of fawns on the lake. 
Can you handle the die-off 
of the whole truth? 
I have nowhere to go. Genes are 
turning on, turning off. Bare hands 
holding the bruises. 

Hungry, but cannot eat 
looking at the tattoos on the back of 
starving children. 
I am sick these days in the midst of glory 
and shame. Faithlessness is a prize 
wrapped by shadows. The snakes 
are climbing on the walls. 

Human things, like chimps 
kissing and hugging to calm down. 
in memoriam of a lost tribe. 
The body of a chaste god 
lies buried under the debris of unholy secrets. 
Homeless I wander, beneath the high sky.

Satish Verma

Comments1

  • baj-a

    wow! poignant write! you really draw the reader in with the power of your words.



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.