Behind the Curtain
BEHIND THE CURTAIN
I picked the withering roses
Out of the vessel;
To fling them off
I crossed the door
Only to find
A palm of fingers
Tilling a land
Between his belly and abdomen
And soon his yelping mouth
Caught it and swallowed .
Alas! where ‘s
My rosy n chubby hunger -dear ?
Copyright © Prafulla Sahu | Year Posted 2011
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