Give me a lone word.
I will write a poem.

You enter the final hour
of diagnosis. The kill
was imminent.

Back to back two trysts collide
generating a fire.

Who was peeling the moon?

The stab sets in. In
abeyance of the gift. I
will give you a scar.

Daisies will remain awake
at night, for the vigil
of a slain pilgrim.

by Satish Verma

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.