Your fangs open like lips.
I am ready for the kiss of death
at a war zone, where I was adrift
holding the flame, moments
stabbed by hot bullets.
Black and white words break the
embrace, I cannot study the bandona now.
Eyes winged, were sailing to distant
lands of smugness, a darkening calm
taking over the poems.
The pungent stink hurts, I swim
without water on dry riverbed, becoming
target for kalashnikov, the courtyard
filled by encroaching blood,
dominion of silent sobs.
Satish Verma
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 29th, 2012 22:33
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
Offline)
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