ImperilmentA Poem by Satish VermaThe interstellar reticence, becomes the
The interstellar
reticence, becomes the muse of a storm. * Departure begins, when the lights are dimmed. Night licks the moon. * Now, you can roll up the stings. Cadaver will not rise. * The bell rings― for the last exhibit. Moths were waiting. © 2019 Satish Verma |
StatsAuthor
|