The Rarest ThingA Poem by Satish VermaThe night watchman has become an etcher.
The night watchman
has become an etcher. The stoning of the shirt must stop. These moments were the real sinners/beating the moon. A simple story becomes an epic. The belly buttons start stammering. Meaning did not take a bath. Canaries have gone on a strike. They will not sing on the edge of night. An oil painting walks out of the canvas― to become a parable. The creator of this art was done. © 2016 Satish Verma |
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