satishverma

OF LANGUAGE

The particulate allegories 
were tossed around. 
The wheels had refused 
to exit. 

Unscathed, phrases 
were erupting in pulses. 
There was flame and ice 
Inherent - 

in the silicate of 
wedded friendship. 
Who was afraid of the bed 
in heydays 


of thorns down the roses? 
An endless journey for the 
bleeders in labyrinthine life 
of yes and no.

Satish Verma