Death's Wings

Tryst with enemy bakes the earth. I am standing firm on dust of times with rising threat. In vloaks, under the fading moon they had come, plundered my yard of truth and blackened the face of an ancient statue of sun god. The terror walks on streets sequencing the genome of unborns in womb; soot was settling in the lungs of windows. Tomorrow night word by word memory will be mauled, uncovering the pyramids of fear. SATISH VERMA