Proving False

News runs faster
than the sun. It is
dark already.

You have started arresting
the shadows. I was still
talking to a rose.

Let's go somewhere. Where
no war cries are heard
for a day.

How many, will you―
count the dead? Each mortal
wants to go home.

The postcards, don't
arrive from the front
anymore.

Will you take my message
by the severed head.

Satish Verma