Power Lines Poem by Satish Verma

The numbers were going up
and hallowed men were no─
more saints.

You find that your shirt
was stained. Now
you talk
to strangers. fear creeps─
under the skin.

You come near each other in─
dark. Reverting yourself

Against the wall of water as
high as your ego. Epidural abscess─
a silence of unknown.

Now, every hour you die. Light
abducts the dreams. Nothing to-
talk about the blitzkrieg.