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Theme: Life Share This Page
Unhitching
by Satish Verma
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  You come home, 
to a genocide of sperms. 
A storm was brewing 
to implode; 
cloning a wooly origami. 

What was the philosophy 
of living indefinitely? 
Silence was the biggest 
noise of spoons. 

You were not entitled 
to inherit the state, 
kissing the trophy of a 
beggared man. 

Detachment with 
upholstery might work. 
Take a candle and 
read the name on the 
black wall.

Share This:
April 27, 2013
More By: Satish Verma
Views: 628      Comments: 0




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