satishverma

 Heterosexuality

Were you ready for a virginity test
to cross the umbrella of harpoons.
A chilled moon

will welcome you after slaying
the hot sun in the valley
of gods. A schism scoops

ignominy. Seeing the lights
which were not there. Almost
sexy, the sky pretends to unrobe.

No weeping. A Caucasian brings
red grapes for a naming
ceremony of black password,

searing the age of complicity.
A rocket propelled grenade
is going to blast a whisper.

Comments1

  • ChicagoSojourner

    I like the feel and the mystery of the poem.
    I would add a question mark in the first stanza, after "harpoons."



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