POTENT ABSENCE

The assembeled evidence did not work
To save the skin, man was truthfully oblique.

Choiceless intimacy was more injurious.
I have not learnt the art of durability.

A good life tangles like a severed limb.
Name was tattoed before committing suicide.

It hailed like hell on haemorrhagic reaper.
Who will now call for spiritual healing ?

Where the window will open, I hardly care.
Tiger will be skinned alive for the taste.

Hope was not my forte and I was not a fake.
Still I threw myself in the river to sink.

I lived in a world of millions of pseudo names.
Silence was a potent absence I missed.


SATISH VERMA