A one hundred rupee
note was floating in the air over the
heads of running people.
The dust mark was expecting
a kiss. There would be a smooth descent.
A nippling future is unborn.
I cannot collect the words.
Lambda was rising. Alone in the rose garden
I set the butterflies free. Don't cut your wrist.
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...