BETRAYAL
Thought I was a friend,
Trusted you to a dead end,
Clung to you with much ease,
Like a hunting ghost would not cease,
I saw the moon brighter,
More to omen am a less fighter,
Didn’t know a war was intact,
Didn’t know it was all a freak act,
You waited to “unflesh” my bones,
Like a vulture you circled me patiently
Then you attacked mightily like thunder,
And sucked until you felt me shudder,
A betrayer conquerors triumph was all I could think of, as I closed my eyes.
It was like spidural
dry crumbs of silence descending,
a still born sun popped out
through a raw hoematoma :
mountain was guilty of something,
it changed its mood and started
talking to clouds until the sky
turned crimson. The fountains had
a question for the bald owls, who under
the lidless eyes, always carried a massage
of colossal waste after the unholy
dinner. I know your glory was beckoning
to unflesh the bones in mass grave
of winged seeds who died in unsewm
pods of violence. I have still not come to
terms with the neck high milkless gaze.
SATISH VERMA
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