Crowd At The Morgue

A new planet was taking birth.
Stem cells were coming out of
obedience to carnality.
For resuscitation from kiss of death
faith was at its best in its witchcraft.

Complete blood count failed,
to diagnose the strange madness.
It was a whirling chemistry.
The transmitters merely took in
the sin, the insanity.

A huge crowd collected at the morgue
to collect the severed limbs,
after the death of a sun.
Picking the scars of dark
and slaughtered tomorrow.

The rage of sunrise will come back.
One day the clouds will burst open. Yes
the death will come as a bride.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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