Poems lay scattered in the city landscape br like dead bodies after a Drone. br I went picking one by one: br poor headless, faceless, rotting trunks. br Ambulances hooted on the roads br ferrying dead bodies to the morgue. br The burial was tough: br for want of space, two or sometimes three br were given to Earth. br br I was looking for the lost limbs, br the mutilated parts of poems to stitch them back: br all lines, alliterations, and tropes, br half, slanted, and feminine rhymes were gone. br Only an odd scheme of vowels survived br as if they were at war with consonants. br The left over syllables wailed like women br and played a requiem of their own.