Mute Desire
Come Naja, come :
from the scented tree
and spread out your hood.
I will pull you down on my lips
One day.
Classical ****, Neanderthal.
In your stark nakedness I wanted an asylum.
A place guiltless, hands blackened, moony face,
Nothing to hide, except the fame
Of a fear.
Can I breathe in a cosmos ? with integrity ?
The interviews are corrupt, the dales stun,
The peace perverted, destroying the white birds.
O browning sun !
Wait till the moon rises.
The daily war is very raw
You burn your fingers
for purity.
SATISH VERMA
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2011
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