BLACKENED CROZIER

Let it remain 
ovarian pure. After strangulating 
the truth, 
for hypoxic euphoria. 

Flies in your face 
the dirt, 
the denial, the terracota 
of superposition of speech 
hiding self-interest. 

Blackened crozier 
for wrinkeled crotch 
drops the ashes of love 
on unopened buds. 

Weeping willow sways 
in warm winds of prayers. 
Strawberry in holes 
nothing like bruise.

Satish Verma