Criminality
Code of the veil was
darkening. You were searching for an
unwritten message in bandanna.
Rot was setting in flesh.
Sludge was becoming a stone
for an unmoving stream.
The talks had failed.
Hand-grenades will explode in shouts
later on, to resume the protocol of death.
Where we are going in evening
of woods ? To go searching for the sapient
ancestors, in city of fingers ?
Years were rolling by in fog.
The arguments were climbing on the
black hills to meet a drunk god.
Satish Verma
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