Soothsayer Has Nothing To Say Poem by Satish Verma

The bird of prey
had the dignity. With
hooked bill ant sharp talons
he sings the victim―
a death.

Salt was invented
by faithfulls. Petunias would not betray in summer.
A bleeding heart cries
before the adversary.

The stones regret after the
lithographer left. There was
a fault in design. Shards in the ink;
You cannot kiss the script.

The perforations
leak in pain. Something obstructs the void
I have come afar from
the lies. There was no truth in peace.