A Handful

Folder: 
Satish Verma

There was peace 
without scapegoats. 
It was a monopoly. A prelude to a kiss 
of insanity. Unzipped between foibles 
and forte lies the sanity. 
The path will know the sex 
sans flowers. 

That was the outer side of 
fence in the cattle shed, where 
the panther had left the half-chewed 
leg of a young girl. The naked 
model denies the sanctity 
and starts talking aloud about the 
flying insects. 

It was worthless 
the travesty of truth. Everybody 
wants a share in mining.