When The Rains Stop

satishverma

Blast of horny
words comes from sideways.
It was your mind.

A hungry soul―
like a hawk, looks straight
in the eyes of a victim.

The bunch of clouds
make an areola around
your head. Were you crying?

The mushrooms grow
overnight on your lips.
At dawn, the steam
hurts my poems.

And I think, to
turn back to my chains,
to stitch again my gaze.

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Comments +

Comments1

  • Bobby O

    To stitch again my gaze

    Really clever ways to express ideas w creative phrase and tapping into metaphors without bending to cliche’



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