A vessel sets off from the Cape of Despair.
A brown girl of ten is the tiniest shipment.
They’re fed up with the indigenous misery.
They sold everything, enchanted by the
traffickers’ fake promises. Their migratory
dreams leap like the kangaroos. But Australia
is beyond the likely maelstroms and cyclones.
They conquer hunger with the dry fruits and
resist the chill with their will. Diesel and their
energy run out. They’re fast asleep beneath
the blanket of fatigue. Soon they vanish within
a gigantic turbulent wave. They find another
version of the world, where there are neither
borders nor flags. They wander in the blue
woods with peeping blackbucks. Red-striped
snakes float in the fragrance of the night blooms.
Ecstasy is ejaculated. None of them feel any sense
of loss. Food is no longer a haunting thought.
They enjoy true charms in pure freedom.
Life is beautiful beyond the mystery of death.
First published in The Literary Hatchet
Deceived several
times, you err again, and
put up your debut kill.
*
A graphic escape,
of moon from the dark
clutches of clouds.
*
The blackbucks
get ready to leapfrog on the
first sound of shots.
Satish Verma
Rains will not come to my land.
Bisexuality starts a **** walk.
Blackbucks were hungry.
The stray dogs were barking
at moon. Into the night goes
the snake without any truth.
Nearly over the scooped –
protection of virginity
against the dazzling hirsutism.
Lost fortune of the flaunted
Buddha. I have no legs
to bow down before the pale god.
This is the sex: there are
strawberries. Have a pick
of comets, bleeding.
Satish Verma
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