Splendor Poem by Satish Verma
Splendor
While writing a poem
I make a blood hole
in my hand.
A walnut face
opens the wrinkles
to find a jade green nephrite
for colicky times.
A prelude to
a death sentence
for profane thoughts.
You think, you can postpone
insomnia of the longest night.
The insects were waiting in wings
to crawl on your beloved body.
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4/16/2024 6:57:49 AM # 1.0.0.1119
