Satish Verma Poet I do not know?

Small Talk

Surge in hidden chastity
enters the torch but the enemy
was within.

Brown clouds over the black carbon,
glaciers were melting;
the assault rifle stands alone in snow.

This was not ignorance,
a purposeful denial of white truce
in the jungle of lizards.

I would go where nobody wants
to tread in night. The hanging years
of marriage gone wrong.

O my God, tiger at the door,
demanding a new babe every moon.
The flesh will extract its own blood.


Satish Verma

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Frank Sinatra January 9, 2010 at 9:57 PM I feel like there is a disconnect beween the first three stanzas to the last two. I have been trying to sort through your symbols and successfully, and meaningfully, marry them together. You have some really great lines and thoughts. I particularly liked the first two lines of the last stanza. I look forward to reading more of your work - Brad