Snaring

While delaying gratification, you stripped-down to bones. It was winter solstice, when day and night confronted each other- in negativity. Tracking the frozen footprints, my absence was generic. I dread the barrenness- of looks, the unwritten wounds seeking the healer. The avalanche falling rapidly on the streets, with placards demanding the gallows- for the tainted. The victim lies still. Ashes fly back at the purebreds. Satish Verma