Survival Poem by Satish Verma

Unslept-
hangman, flees from the noose.
The day had come to execute.
A thought had become a fear
but fear was not a thought.

Naked in the moon
a wolf wants move of something
leaning on the hills of thirst,
bitten by the views of cemetery.

The landscape
was changing. You want to cover your head
with a topi, standing on the edge
of a lake before you are drowned
under the burning eyelids.

A Buddha smiles from
the shelf. How can you fill the emptiness
of a bowl, which has
hundred holes?