a poem by Satish Verma, India

Stay away from the main road
Subhumans are coming.
Face of black spiders, long arms
creeping, hopping.

The green blood and burning sticks;
gateway to moon
sun decides to vanish.

Confronting the flesh makes you clenched snake,
lymphocytes start crowding
death was drawing near.

A fawn wanders without mother
pink eyes, trotting on grass,
syndicated trackers are circling.

End or means? What you choose,
will decide the future of man.
Let the flame become nameless.

A cupped beak and hairy thighs
climb on the rock
to squander the seeds.

Clouds are gathering at distance
I may not wait for the rain.
I am going to swallow the pill.

Satish Verma

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