Blood Draped
It was coming up, the politics
like dirty sex
in tall Parthenium grass.
The panther was hiding on a steppingstone
watching the hot, field hockey
played with skulls of peers.
Mauled, the peach skin was
entertaining sunlight in
the metaphoric village.
Prisoners of false ceilings,
we sing the anthem with
the crowd of wolves.
Satish Verma
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment