Poetry

Come Naja, come:
from the scented tree
and spread out your hood.
I will pull you down on my lips
One day.

Classical porn, Neanderthal.
In your stark nakedness I wanted an asylum.
A place guiltless, hands blackened, moony face,
Nothing to hide, except the fame
Of a fear.

Can I breathe in a cosmos? with integrity?
The interviews are corrupt, the dales stun,
The peace perverted, destroying the white birds.
O browning sun!
Wait till the moon rises.

The daily war is very raw
You burn your fingers
for purity.


Satish Verma