An Angst Poem by Satish Verma
An Angst
Was it kosher to wake
up a sleeping poem, when
someone has burned the book?
A rite of passage
between the poppies?
The soaked swans
were not ready to accept
the challenge of the defining moment.
A smart moon walks
behind me, snooping around the pines,
to drink the brazen lips.
Why small girl walks on the snow
to get the blessing
of the bells?
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/4/2024 1:29:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
