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Downward Spiral
Folder:
Satish Verma Like pine needles,
you prick, draw blood―
doing the beauty.
Between an angel
and angelina, there stood a wall.
Ah! A religion also.
You are asked
to smear the bone ash on
forehead, and drink moonlight.
Cannibals. All the gods
were cannibals, devouring
their progeny.
You turn back and
give a last glance before
going for a faux pas.
Not a heartache―
for a faun, you were too
proud to accept the gift.
