Glass, a lid
Slipping, a curtain of purest water
Drop
Now fainting, waking and beating
Closer growing, armoury for an apparition
Dreaming of wings, but oh,
But oh
Trail, paper
Walls are covered and so I cover
Following observant
Back in archives of interwar
My sister stood, my shadow
Overbearing and eating me
Beating with a pulse
The cave is a womb
Rounded as a core
Living reaching further back
Eat
The mud and Eden
Slowly ice white
Breathing, you can see
The clingfilm
Growing like a bulb
A world of atoms
Crushed
Oh Daffodil,
The sun is shining under smog light
And over the echo we...
Interwar
How I have my reservations
That we are ever even out
And face to face
A solid
Cold
Brick wall
And I call you
Bonn and you call me
Dead Berlin
A gathering of
Correspondence
A scattering of
Dirty nothings.
The heavy lead blocks
Feeling completely spavined
Ineluctable
Zymotic gulf like nihilism
Hollow skull starved
Explodes wherein of itself
The wells enlarge
And vomit happy
Under sunken stars
As Baryshnikov they
Perform deep under laps
Enveloped lightly and kingdom come
Pallid as an interwar prostitute
The ball in the stomach floating like a foetus
Intense maladies and ulcer-bile-black night skies
Cross-hair river bed
You could chase me if you
I know where the gunshots fire
I know all the exits
Brechtian how easy into slumbers
A real face to death is an occasional depression
When we slept through our
naked loops, there was a silent call.
Moon was out walking on the street
peeping through the glass window,
the crossed legs.
Trees were meshed up in dark. Do you
know the impropriety of leaves, climbing
on each other? Dogs inbreeding? Incestuous in camera.
The elixir of life. Recycled urine. We
were not crying. It was the urgency
to die to challenge the infinity.
We get paralysed. Our legs will not
move on fallen skulls. Blood was everywhere.
The terrorists on terrace, negotiating for a massive
ransom. This interwar was wholesome. The
hysterical confusion breaks us apart
and morgue was full of kissing gods.
SATISH VERMA
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