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Suicides
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Satish Verma In despair,
beyond-pain, I will watch my dreams
in rimless eyes of wet faces.
The lake had been sending back
the white and black shrouds
everyday.
They were jumping one by one
old and young,
from the twisted planks
holding geraniums.
A warm prayer on the lips,
what was left worth enduring?
The innocence, the guilt, the shame?
Clinging to bloody lumps of happiness
who is going to have a last laugh?
Time is breathing gloom,
body is attached to a pole.
