Baby Face
Why did not you
cross the black river
and remained innocent ?
Unhealed, failed inside, broken and honest ?
You won the race,
the space, the heaven.
Moving away to the farthest blackness.
Your god sits crosslegged, clotting.
Brown hands on white shoulders, boneless
move in circle. Deportation
of words opens the green wounds.
Birds carry the snow on the wings.
I was confused, wanted to love
my broken vowels, for absolute you and me.
The baby face pops up again
in my perfection, speechless.
SATISH VERMA
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2008
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