I know can’t sit here forever
clutching his scarf to my chest
and looking to the star-like glimmers of the cave roof above.
He wanted to see the stars.
They say he’d want me to move on.
I went through the house yesterday.
His clothing hung in the closet.
If I hadn’t known better about how it happened
I’d say they hung like the dead.
He wanted to be fashionable.
They say he’d want me to move on.
I found his favorite book still on the shelf.
Taking a deep lungless breath
I sat on his bed
the story in my hands
and I read it just like I had
so many nights
to send him to sleep.
He wanted to read all the stories he could find.
They say he’d want me to move on.
There were so many things he’d wanted to do
before his life was ripped away.
But of all those things
the most important
is that he’d want me to move on.
Categories:
lungless, angst, death, loss,
Form: Verse
And how shall we trace the
trajectory of a lungless scream
coming out of a slit throat?
Time was overrun by gnostic
resentment in absolute mind.
The fury of a gathering food riot:
do you hear the memorial rising,
rising –
on bones of hunger, swollen eyelids?
Soon they will meet on the bellies.
The fumigation starts, of lies
a bactericidal, to wipe out the germs
in dumb minds. The prognosis failed,
life moves in a tunnel, absent
and present!
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
lungless, art
Form: I do not know?