by Satish Verma
You are peeling me off
like a crab.
Time has sunk very low.
For the hungry kids
who was growing crab apples?
Creating art,
arriving between the pubes.
A microfossil
roosting within me.
I could live without oxygen.
Incandescent,
the liquid wounds.
I will not send any salvo.
Satish Verma
From:
Ajmer, Rajasthan, India
Copyright ©:
satishverma
Last updated December 24, 2012