A sleepchaser brings
a quantum of pain
to fight the ugly night.
The patient attack
on the lids
for the sake of absinthe.
The son of lakes―
would bring in goat
to drink the elixir.
I would not talk
about the exile, which
one earned by donating―
the kidneys.
The blade of grace
cuts the sun into small
chapels which become eyes
of street dancers.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: May 29th, 2019 19:35
- Category: Nature
- Views: 8
- User favorite of this poem: clair jane.
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