EyeshadowsA Poem by Satish VermaRed horizon― had bite-marks
Red horizon―
had bite-marks of setting sun. On the table, I will place all my oblique wares for a change. You embrace the strange things, horns and all. The dissection was accurate. A multiplex opens the gates for all the lipless gods. The maddening silence of the priest was deafening. I will not come near the skulls. © 2019 Satish Verma |
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