Consecrated

satishverma

It was a severed finger
in an envelope,
which wrote the letter
of consent.

Oh, my father
I am still crying
with loss of words
and figures.

Past the hills
I sent the secret of
my poems which did not tell
me the name of knife-

that was put in my back
by my unknown
brothers of shame. I will
now bleed all life.

It was only an
apology. I will still
walk with my toes drawing
the stripes of welts.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 10th, 2016 20:46
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 5
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors




To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.