Treasure Island

Satish Verma

(5-6-1935)

CASUALTIES


I am standing in peat.
The war drags on.

The dirt is raw,
squirting on to fingernails
turning them blue.
Who was running away
from hinges?

The genital warts were
spreading. The cold facts will
wear casuistry. The train
derails. Only the earth
is hurt.

Dreams cannot close the
wounds. You want to go
where the jungle is. Teeth
are broken. Eyes
become the house for ants.

Submitted: Tuesday, March 12, 2013
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