Curvature Poem by Satish Verma
Curvature
The visible was most
invisible.
Watching the moon
through veil.
A bomb explodes
in your hands.
The poem wavers-
and then falls on dew.
This was not bone-green;
original,
not a fake cloud –
to kiss the feet
of a burning god.
It was natural conjugation
between enemies.
Friday, February 11, 2011
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4/23/2024 5:36:12 AM # 1.0.0.1119
