Zero Hour Poem by Satish Verma
Zero Hour
It was night’s fury
whipping up hysteria
on specks of flames, dancing in pain.
On a heap of ashes
and bones where a child of death
will be born.
Before fading,
moon will kiss the golden thighs
of sun and think aloud
dying shirtless in intimate
ambit of sky.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
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4/19/2024 4:07:46 AM # 1.0.0.1119
