Counterfeits Poem by Satish Verma

Traversing atopia
I am touching your belly button,
to find the remains
of ancient connectivity.

Was that good-
asking for a nasal approach
to the golden incense
of a sleeping Buddha?

The faith crumbles at
the feet of a groping figure.
A falcon tears away the pink
globe, drinking the falling nectar.

Unzipped, a Venus now opens
the secret of a murder. The
dismembered parts were strewn
around over the surface of moon.