HOLY WINGS

satishverma

The twisted moon 
moved horizontally, 
plunged in cleavage 
of dark trees 
eating the stars. 

Aloneness; midnight dream, 
faces the wall of nails. 
Scratches on the flesh 
blood oozing. 
The benign end. 

Put off the lights, 
it helps to think clearly. 
Drape the mercy of night. 
Snake was hissing, may strike. 
A cramp will kill the joy. 

The fish will be welded 
to a candle.

Satish Verma

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 16th, 2013 22:33
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 37
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Comments +

Comments1

  • baj-a

    your imagery is always so complex and fills my heart with sadness. your words are so fitting for the world in which we live today.



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