Monilia

Irreverent arsenic of lake bottom 
was seeping in me
I was riding on waves, moon-stuck.

The nude shot 
of anemone, blindfolded
after the criminal assault.
Why they were throwing the lewed comments ?

A raw cave 
of white pain, drags the deity out
and dances on hawthorns.
The butchers become sick,
sick to the bones.

O democracy, king was not wise,
wise was not king.



Satish Verma
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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Culverhouse Avatar
May 15, 2012 at 7:12 AM
unusual poem....is this a real place?
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