Satish Verma

(5-6-1935)

In deep conversation


Again,
a hunt will start,
incognito.

Uncorfirming
a freak. A zipless encounter
without a knife.

I am not going
to lose a blue peacock.
Light will not come.

Into the dark recess
I had planted
a time bomb

in the womb.
Give me a blight,
if you want.

Yet I am going
to sail, combing
the moon.

Submitted: Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, August 21, 2013

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