Clampdown - Poem by Satish Verma
It was a dirty war
flaying the legs in emotional outburst.
Only mandibles will do the job of chewing
on your dark fingers.
Flat, the taste of milk:
a synthetic formula to eat your entrails.
The plastic nose will smell the rose.
message will bring the fishplates
and birthmark of violence.
Death has a cult of contusions.
You bleed to bones
for illuminating the street.
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