I am developing awareness
of your parted lips. Something was
left to say, your ankles had stopped ringing,
I am not a holder of
candles. Want to stay in the dark to
look at the falling moon on the burning pyre.
Barefoot I walk on the
hot ashes, after the collective suicide
of the utopia, without a war.
YOU ARE READING
Satish Verma Poems
PoetrySatish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. You are taken aback. T...
