Stumbling

by Satish Verma

Disaffection
brings out, the black fever.
Stars will chart the inky path.

It was too close
the brazen attack
on sacred rites.

Prejudice
of contents was besides, heavy.
I am going to flee from spaces.

You become a fodder
of white ghost.
Your shadow cleaves in water.

Below the bridge
hangs a tale.
The river had received phosphorescent bodies.

28-Jul-2010

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