It Is Absurd Poem by Satish Verma

After the sunset,
the moon comes out whitewashed.
An extremist flies a hawk.

The bird's meet was
disbanded. There was no
mandate to decide the fate
of eggs.

I cannot think. After the
arrest of an anarchist the cauldron
was left to boil.
The bones start melting.

Step out from the dark.
The blind men were protesting
in the street against the sun.

It is a small world.
You meet me again and again.