Homelessness by Satish Verma SignUp
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Theme: Life Share This Page
Homelessness
by Satish Verma
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  Bending the forked-stick to find 
underground water? 
And immortality of thirst. 

Lips were fragile. There were 
no dewdrops on the upper lip. 
It tasted like a frozen moon. 

Clouds had sucked the childhood. 
No one picks up the fireflies 
from dark bushes. 

Tasered by stings, the moonlight 
hangs by the window. 
I watch you undressing. 

After the blizzard, a rocking chair 
waits. Hypothermia. The musical 
return of the mute did not take place.
Share This:
March 18, 2013
More By: Satish Verma
Views: 746      Comments: 0




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