Divinity Without

Your fangs open like lips. I am ready for the kiss of death at a war zone, where I was adrift holding the flame, moments stabbed by hot bullets. Black and white words break the embrace, I cannot study the bandona now. Eyes winged, were sailing to distant lands of smugness, a darkening calm taking over the poems. The pungent stink hurts, I swim without water on dry riverbed, becoming target for kalashnikov, the courtyard filled by encroaching blood, dominion of silent sobs. Satish Verma