Poezja

take back your smile,
the fish has died in my hands;
nowhere you have touched me
deep in the brutal corona of a black moon -

my sun spots were waning:
a hole in the wind, chased
adulthood of man for a frozen
infantile mutancy

something stopped you
to discover yourself in the rage:
what was it? I am refusing to believe
something between the unbuttoned
golden flesh of a mummy,

the old version dies hard, fear escapes
from amygdalae,
in mourning, comes the rainbow
of pain, the rain lashing on window
i am melting inside a cast


Satish Verma