You sit in a cauldron
waiting for an angel to ignite the
coals to invite the gods of the iron age.
Somnambulism, I get up at
night and start talking with stars to know
when the black hole will come near the earth.
The art of killing yourself
was very easy to fling your body on the
burning pyre, but that needs love.
YOU ARE READING
Satish Verma Poems
PoetrySatish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. You are taken aback. T...