Satish Verma
A SECRET SELF
Every night this body
becomes a dissecting knife
a crime scene of blood
and unstrung flesh,
the lamb spreads the wool
for a deadly charge of skull plate
with a gift of mathematics
a moon cutout in sky
before the shadow of myth in the depth
of tortured chemistry:
the endless nothing will kiss the darkness
my blindness becomes a diet.
Satish Verma
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