Power Lines

by Satish Verma

The numbers were going up
and hallowed men were no
more saints.

You find that your shirt
was stained. Now
you talk
to strangers. Fear creeps
under the skin.

You come near each other in
the dark. Reverting yourself

Against the wall of water as
high as your ego. Epidural abscess
a silence of unknown.

Now, every hour you die. Light
abducts the dreams. Nothing to
talk about the blitzkrieg.

29-Mar-2014

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