satishverma

SMOKING CANDLE

A plug dismantles a temper 
unveils a pink bullet-hole 
on the fore-head. 

A butterfly flutters and then 
sits on the lips, offers an apology 
for the smile. 

The water blooms in eyes 
cascading to chest 
for measuring the mounts. 

Who mimics the fever 
of a volcano, throwing burning 
ash in the eyes of a sun?

Satish Verma