Poetry

A green smoke was rising
to ferret out
the elusive pain
without body.

I went in search of
fidgety words
to patch up the conflicts
of flesh.

Bold as Passiflora,
Crucifixion was complete.
Today a gift of obeyance
will arrive.

It was a fake.
The eyes on the hump.
Camel has to cross
a steep desert.


Satish Verma