satishverma

In Deep Conversation

Again,
a hunt will start,
incognito.

Uncorfirming
a freak. A zipless encounter
without a knife.

I am not going
to lose a blue peacock.
Light will not come.

Into the dark recess
I had planted
a time bomb

in the womb.
Give me a blight,
if you want.

Yet I am going
to sail, combing
the moon.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 5th, 2017 21:52
  • Category: Nature
  • Views:


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