The Massacre Poem by Satish Verma

Arrange the foot-candles
for candela. I am not
going on back foot.
Moon was not burning tonight.

The real darkness descends.
You brace yourself
for a crude assault.
Clouds are thinning out.

You wanted to remove
yourself from the Eros.
Was it not egregious when,
someone is shot when he was sitting quietly?

An amorous saint? Will
you be able to separate-
sex from the violence? He was-
a jester, just acting in a movie.