Left On The Dunes

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Talking points at ground zero 
trap the heat. The tyranny 
knows no bounds. 

Trauma of awaiting liberation 
was intense. No truth was 
ready to accept the bends. 

I feel cheated when, 
the dark gives a sermon about 
the hidden dawn. 

The hair burn in unmade 
bed, taking a cue from 
the beast, who will not sleep. 

Where do the white stars 
go, when the sun rises? I 
will ask the crying lake.