Colored Designs

Everytime you discover 
a new black hole;
someone crosses the border
and starts crying.

Thread weaved in and out 
of tapestry. You were nailed 
to the wall, which never 
had any doors.

Why were you not a mackintosh ?
You scripted strangely, talking 
of an open world. You smell
a war between the poems-

in a book. There was no ad hoc
pain in groins. Your boney 
nose went to find the peat moss
in the jungle of sandalwoods.


Satish Verma
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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