Written by: Satish Verma

It was a sex attack
in burning clairvoyance.

You cannot catch me 
in catastrophic moment.

A hard core porn has 
the piety for a lone wolf.

Unclothed, a courier 
walks into a shower of bullets.

A hospital waits for the 
wounded god returning home.

On the scrubland you place at the 
end a coffined prophet, smiling.

Sleepless, sleeping on ambers 
you recite a blind epitaph.

Satish Verma