Fencing

Scouring, the unmarked
silences―
for the invisible executions.

My name was
on top, for exclusion
from the list.

Now you can read the
applicant's account
under the sun's fault.

A thrill of terror
runs through the buds.
A celebration will stop the words.

There was no other
way, to know the pink of
a dying rose.

Satish Verma