Muzzling
Listening to a gleaming
word whole life
and finding its meaning at
the *** end.
And you are in thrall
to a sinful pleasure.
The yearnings
of a small Pteris,
which drinks arsenic daily
to rescue a withering smile.
A poem sings to me
under a lantern, when a
storm was raging to roil
the blue birds of imploring peaks.
It looks into your eyes
to find the answer
of complete shutdown
of cotton feel.
Satish Verma
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2014
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