Earthy SmellA Poem by Satish VermaEarthy Smell
The tricks
of honey-beaters become evident. You in old age churn the truth of losses, raising eyebrows. No bottle brush was left behind to act as secret weapon, to bring down the pygmalion. Like an earthen pot. The leaked dam of tears would stand erect. The fallout gives a shudder. You are stripped off the boat, meant to cross the muddy water. A temple becomes a monument, without deity. There was only one survivor, the godless curse. © 2021 Satish Verma |
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