Theme: Life

Truncated

by Satish Verma
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A midnight craft 
dumps the moon 
on a heap of deceits. 
I ask my sap to turn back for truism. 

It was a question of spacing 
between the bodies 
in scapegoats; 
coming for slaughter. 

A scale measures the depth 
of defeats. The hands 
were busy in mending the 
walls of psychiatric ward. 

Have you ever tasted a white 
poison, sweet in taste? 
When you grow old, you will 
look like your father. 

The name which was absent 
in calendar, was found everywhere.

17-Mar-2013

More By  :  Satish Verma

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