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
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