These are black days
in purple cubes. My intimate poems
were still nascent, accounted for.
You become Mimosa pudica
in the cusp of liberty. You have emptied
yourself by sending god to other religions.
Tell you, I may forget me,
but will not forgive me. When I left my coat,
our ancestors were already gone unspoken.
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...
