Short Dry Run Poems

slipping in the shower
coming unglued, the ceiling
strips...collapses

6/1/2018...

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Every time your nervous
hands run
over my
body I am
left
breathless giggling
wishing
my lips could
wildly 
run on
you in retaliation...

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Turmoil 

Transplanted from native soil.
No warning. 
No dry run.

Thrown into turmoil.
Few  skills. 
No plumage.

Lost sense of direction.
Confused.
Still waving arms....

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I dream of reliving my heart’s past fall.
To marry again and bear the long haul.

I long to long.
To sing that song.

One day I will lock in the courage.
One day photos will find the fridge.

For now I must simply yield to stall.
Readying my boat before the waterfall.

I dry-run this until my skin peels off.
I pray I will be ready for takeoff.


...

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Target identified,
a job to do.
Take it out
by next Friday.
Watch it's moves,
get prepared.
Pick the method,
dry run through.
Check equipment;
all working.

Don't stand out,
merge with the crowd.
A true professional;
a face, a dollar,
nothing personal.

It leaves the hotel,
the time has come.
Words are shot;
a suicide tonight.
Knowledge is lethal,
speech can kill....

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The presiding deity makes a dry run
for a meaningless pride of frightened
amphibians, under the mud, on the clouds
who have no faces, no limbs.

The citadel laments over a spiritual arc.
You might get out of the battlefield
with a blue eye and trembling gestures.
The black guilt with a love letter arrives.

The voices sting. He was arranging his
white flowing beard, ready to make a compromise.
The ravaged landscape now waits for the 
green rains, matching the stoned remedies.


SATISH VERMA...

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