Poetry

One wardrobe malfunction
was a blast, a kill;
undressing imagination.
I was ready for an ambush.

Like boa's grip, entwined, strangulating,
hardly breathing. I am in blue water
like a humpback whale;
donot go for the revenge.

It was not the fabric of flesh
hair and bones. I was tasting
the ash falling off the forehead
of a fallen saint.

The smile was going up for sale
in a gulp of greed.
Tomorrow morning I will find
amnion shaved on street.



Satish Verma