Art
Indulging in self-obsessed navel watch for greedy eyes
like a cloud of saliva around the amygdale, they
walk on sands fudging, seizing contradictions,
smelling of raw flesh and salt, an extinction spring.
The seeds are floating an parachutes between the
burnt-out lures. Everything splits into sparks
charging the air. The guilt looms large, arches
like an octopus, riveting before an artful design.
Just one lump of sugar on peripheral fields to
dilate the pupils in dark baking the bones.
Let us swim up to the wall, wild in our groins
tie up the shoelaces and climb the portrait.
SATISH VERMA
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