Night Games Poem by Satish Verma

You have made me
a replica of dust
without sins.
There was no questioning.

Would it become
a mirrored crime? Word
by word, the meaning
was slaughtered.

Civility cries. No
holds barred. Life takes
revenge. How will you
stop the wolf?

Sleep well, on
pillow of grass, with
impermeable thoughts.

Blood cantos. The
moments turn into centuries.
A confessional guilt
starts healing you.

Love divides you in
body parts.