Partly stripped, head shaven
for a royal revelation of eternal scars.
Blood oranges.
You want to practice your knife
on the boneless.
No loaves left for the rainy day.
Do you believe in after life?
White pigeons convulsed
on the hot, searing sands of
the rebel stronghold.
The politics works. Small breasts
with no filling. A gender bias
makes you fit for a Stark effect.
I search the flesh, the eyes
the wisdom.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: July 31st, 2018 19:40
- Category: Nature
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.