Returning Home

by Satish Verma

After dispossession,
collecting the dolls,
dusting them off.

Who was watching
you, dousing yourself
to give a political statement?

Cutting the leaves
of grass, I open
the book of Walt Whitman.

This was a targeted
killing. I will not join
the funeral procession.

A mistaken lull.
One day I will
shoot endlessly.

14-Jan-2015

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