The Walls

by Satish Verma

A green smoke was rising
to ferret out
the elusive pain
without body.

I went in search of
fidgety words
to patch up the conflicts
of flesh.

Bold as Passiflora,
Crucifixion was complete.
Today a gift of obeyance
will arrive.

It was a fake.
The eyes on the hump.
Camel has to cross
a steep desert.

20-Aug-2010

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