This Day

It was inheritance of pain. I should have known. Incontinent, she was scared to hug me: the child, after the rape. Shepherding the lacerations: petrified, a body of lad floating in a sewage tank; a short circuit in an incubator, row of infants, life snuffed out in flames; of being. I want to know ontology, need a spinal surgery;somebody wants to abort a fetus, because of mistaken identity, an alien egg was implanted; racing time,bitter and corrosive, it happned for the first time; karma, you say. I don’t agree, you need camel’s milk to clear your thoughts, like clenched fist against the darkness; the little child,lad,infants,mortality after a wrong calculation; the test tubes and petri-dishes, need despoiling while the soul screams in a cage;I am ready to jump out of the window, stories down on the legends, unburdened ! SATISH VERMA