Mutation

by Satish Verma

Like black birds
homing in twilight, to the tree
my thoughts make a perfect landing.

I lift the silence in sleep.
A flying snake enters
a pink room.

A bullet pierces the heart.
No acolytes, I will
catch myself the drifting smell

of eternal caress. Basking
in pain I pluck up my
trail in rubble of dreams.

You defy the likeness to god
become poor like an undershirt
and walk straight.

20-Dec-2010

More By : Satish Verma

Views: 1388 Comments: 0