Reward

The ghost walks with me
boneless debris
of hairy limbs.

The device
manipulates the neck
spreading dark litter.

Clouds hurt astoundingly
on the eyes.
Debit of a sin.

A huge umbrells
open on wounds
of the bleeding tree.

The fruits fall
like golden nuggets
on the stretched hands.

SATISH VERMA
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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