Poetry

Like a snowfox
it stampedes.
A mass panic of legs
after the flame festival.
Language moves like a landslide,
without vocabulary.

A love sperm will not go
into the test tube.
Baby was waiting, looking for
mother. The wetland was boiling.
The pain was worthy of the lamb
sacrificed.

Like a lantern, herpes zoster, burns.
The ganglia in memory of sick embrace.


Satish Verma