ObstinacyA Poem by Satish VermaBe tender, with me― in midstream.
Be tender, with me―
in midstream. I will not arrive. Perversity was not my virtue. I am still burning on coals. It was a disappearing act. I become a brown rose in your eyes. The impacted glitch. I was not deft at the art of weaving a ritual. I carry the dried skull, of my unknown ancestor, who would not come back to home. © 2017 Satish Verma |
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