Upon the
chickenpoxed highway
“The dust . .
. floats high”
Vehicles
trudge
Crawl like a
centipede
A dog has
been hit
Black crows
pick delicately
The beige
colored intestines
The putrid,
stinking smell
Fills the air
On both sides
of the highway
Hundreds of
knocked, crushed
Axed,
bulldozed trees lie
The grey
colored
Muddy
intestines all visible
Their dead
carcasses
Don’t stink
Don’t rot
No nose picks
them
They just lie
there
Like used oil
tanks
After war,
Or after they
tar the road.
Army
personnel
Places his
leg
On an
unearthed
Chinar stump
Starts his
rifle
And ends my
Zeppelin Kashmir –
“Let me take
you there”
astonishing!!
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