Statecraft Poem by Satish Verma

Delta. I was the fourth child.
The delta connection of a
triangular love. No blues.
Only cottony belly.

My copper coins. I want to save
them for making talismans.
My arms are entwined like
a python around the neck of a medusa.

That hairy push of a trident.
The stinging tentacles. The
polyp was enlarging. Now the
snake was shedding the skin.

Statesmen. They change their colour
like chamaeleon. Prehensile
tail trailing behind the witch-
craft of black goddess.