Revolution

Throwing the wreath 
across the river
after the canal rapture ?
Does it look eerie ?
Yes it was spine-chilling
to see. The band went on
to play:
‘nearer to island’.

There was a pause.
Then a question.
The black space was done for.
The hatching. A plot ?
Upstaging a snowstorm
falling in someone’s lap
with white roses.

In cracked dry mud
an unclenched fist
deconstructs a map.


Satish Verma
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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