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Poems :  STATECRAFT
Tags: Life  
 
Delta. I was the fourth child.
The delta connection of a
triangular love. No blues.
Only cottony belly.

My copper coins. I want to save
them for making talismans.
My arms are entwined like
a python around the neck of a medusa.

That hairy push of a trident.
The stinging tentacles. The
polyp was enlarging. Now the
snake was shedding the skin.

Statesmen. They change their colour
like chamaeleon. Prehensile
tail trailing behind the witch-
craft of black goddess.

Satish Verma



Satish Verma

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satishverma
Author satishverma
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Date 2013/7/25 4:19:21
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Recents
The Broken Statue
Ghostwriting
Pulsating Moods
Not A Banal Taste
The Mysterious Fire
Random
Audio Pain
Toxicity
CURVED IN
A Rebel Being Born
SHELLING UNCOUNTED
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