I was worried.
A deviant had lost the shape,
and had thrown a word at your face.
The black name was crawling
on the white paper. It was not
a rape, but the abduction―
of a mystic.
The snake time. Politics.
The crowd was celebrating the death.
What would you say, death
had many names?
I want to sleep with you tonight,
O moon. The slave
had become the master.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: December 3rd, 2017 19:35
- Category: Nature
- Views: 33
Offline)
Comments1
..."abduction-of a mystic"...was a great use with the former line. I understand that phrase on several levels. So much more to say, too little space to write.
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