Pardon My Darkness

You always said, violence
was in you. Everything was dying
around.

There was a tacit understanding―
enacted,
interceding with―
a lasso. The baked silence
always stares at you.

I have no praise,
no condemnation for anyone.

Inevitably you suck the moon,
your thumb,
your blood.

A poem falls on the ground
to breathe again.

Satish Verma