Poetry

Not contentious
I will put you in moon
for another rain.


The invisible sex
ticks the gravity of mouth
that eats the murder.

My body becomes an emperor
even for the dust.
Not the naked cloud.

Blood colors the name
of a sad priest.
Who defied a smelling god.

A pig burrows in snow
to unwrap a gift.
It was a strip tease.


Satish Verma