The limbs had the raw strength.
They were learning
to walk on the water.
The silver axe
will hack off the neck
after the daunting recovery.
In gestational surrogacy,
you don’t want
the incisors.
To kill a wanderer,
you need a howling─
wind, fledged.
A shoebox contains
the handprints of a skeleton
and liquid eyes.
The hunger has a blue
desire. A savage bite
will bring out the space.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline)
- Published: June 15th, 2017 20:00
- Category: Nature
- Views: 26
Comments1
Great write
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.