Short Ligaments Poems

Your touch is healing
Power: treat sprains, fractures
Massage ligaments....

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I am the queen. I contain the universe. 
Here is your proof: 
this body warped.
Back bent. Ligaments stretched. Tender places torn.  
See the fault lines of my fractured belly?
Evidence of thunder quaking.
The width of my hips tells tales.
Speaks of a new world that passed through me....

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Whose concerns are elbow germs?
The bugs we cannot see?
We wash our face and scour both hands
But hinge joint ligaments
Receive no such sentiment
Soaps' a stranger to our winged tips
Located somewhere between the hips
Fractures, aches, arthritis
Funny bones, bumps and bursitis
But elbow germs invite no press
Which is why arm colds are such distress!...

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Escaping through a window,
he mounts a silver skeleton.
Flying downhill, dispensing power
through straining ligaments.
His heroic calves squeezing light
into cone-shaped yellow beams
Then uphill, the counter-attack
of implacable night.
The boy speeds through
sleeping streets,
cape flowing, eye-mask
unseen, essential though
for a peddle-powered hero
who patrols
by the glow of a dynamo....

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have gone through 
Many murders
Throughout my life
Cold-blooded,
Savage and heart-wrenching.
Heart lost it's zeal
But the one that 
Made me to 
Live in a mausoleum 
Without getting died
Is thy love
Dagger of ur 
Love pierced my flesh
Ate my ligaments
And spitted the remnants
Like a devouring wolf
Don't murder me with 
Thy love...
Coz,i have already lost
The chime of my voice
When u losed the key
To open my heart...

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I used to imagine that the body
was a sort of fleshy gospel, bound together
by mind and ligaments.
Years of smutch, and oily reduction,
daily, a thin scum to be skimmed -
a process of dross elimination,
but each year there is a teaspoonful of loss
that cannot be explained, made up or accounted for,
more a lessoning and not an alchemy.
If this kind of culinary reduction
keeps losing the fat of me
I will be as nothing,
and maybe that’s the point....

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I watched the monkey 
climb aboard,
and sink his claws 
into the small of your back
after all, 
its where the sweetmeat is


you stood there 
not batting an eye
while he devoured
and chewed on your psyche


ripping at ligaments
you twitched,
just a mite
and went white


refrain from turning back
refrain from self flagellation


throwing that hairy parasite
off your back


wings will spread again
and paint the doors to heaven
with a Mona Lisa smile...

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nothing is left to say,
the wandering cloud was bleeding
for white moon,

the elements, the purity, the ligaments
are fake, joints are festering
with fever on burntout resins ;

the name floats in millions of veins,
tell me the fault line of tremors, 
a mass burial was on way,

the surge of deadly intent
in this night of black spiders
in eternal pursuit of murder, unpalming

thousand hurts, poppies kissing the eyes
of ravaged shutters, locks broken
and ivory taken away 



SATISH VERMA...

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