Flesh and Bones

Signs versus shadows in city of reasons burst amnion. White cranes manipulate black clouds, smudge the nomenclature. I want to become deaf in grazing blasts. Young lovers dance on machetes; nifty wounds of red alpines. Thieves loot the basket of zodiac, death on tall trees. Even the grief has enemies, for another farewell to sky. You could hear the finger tapping on the empty belly of little girl from the broken childhood, not allowed to scream loudly. Will the sanity grieve on the charred remains of a virgin, in the exiled home of a brave truth ? Then two little hands will thump again in fog ? SATISH VERMA