PunctualityA Poem by Satish VermaThe cult moves in circle. Stargazing
The cult moves in
circle. Stargazing starts. You lie buried in wet retreat. Eyes protruding The veil sends a sweet death. The death. Only you would know, what was the conversation between the repentant and priest. Superfluous. To beautify the grimace. The lips― always cheat. A black cloud devours the moon. © 2018 Satish Verma |
StatsAuthor
|