A black swan was worried
about the debt slaves
sailing along the
marbled slopes of red meat.
The ghosts in white cloaks
of truncated wombs, wait
for the pearl’s extraction
from the doe eyes of future.
Can you trust the truth of
the city which will not climb
on the rooftops to look at
the white moon?
Instead you get paid for the
crimes you did not commit.
Now you will write your own
epitaph before you are shot
down on the back.
Satish Verma's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (BLACK POETRY by Satish Verma )
- Friendship Fade Out, Wilma Horne
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- Door to the Mind, Fariza Nur Shabrina
- Traveler, Fariza Nur Shabrina
- Pockets Of Lace, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Not Just You, Fariza Nur Shabrina
- Cry of the Unwanted, Fariza Nur Shabrina
- Beneath the Words, Fariza Nur Shabrina
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