I AM SMILE WITH TEARS

He felt very guilty 
while defending himself. Being nothing 
in the times, he became so dangerous 
for himself that the buttons were lost for 
patriarchal connectedness. 
The faces had become the permanent masks. 

Now what? 
Flutes lie broken in bottom of the pond, 
stones had committed suicide. 
A window lets in darkness. 
I love the pace of history walking on the back 
of alligators. It does not die. 

I am emptying the urn, again and again 
to write poems on the flyleaves of life. 
Pure pain. I am smile with tears. My 
knees carrying the amputated leg. A big 
throw on the trash. I am thirsty, 
not hungry. My hands reach for a strip.

Satish Verma