Theme: Life

Watching Our Warts

Sloping down in gold pursuit 
of a bruised city, 
sons of nameless fathers 
were changing the generic mandate. 

I am becoming fluvial 
going on a muted odyssey 
to find unmarked graves. 

Slaughtering 
your own lines, in praise of end
which came very soon; 
before the windows altered the moon. 

Genes spilled on the road 
recalling the wounded 
son whose lexicon took him 
to war with the meanings.

13-Feb-2013

More By  :  Satish Verma

Views: 1373     Comments: 0


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