Satish Verma

(5-6-1935)

IN OUR BREASTS


Taut flesh of toxic seductress
comes out of the skin,
rolls in the dream.

A century buries the neck of God
and creates the words
of unbroken greed for useless faith.

A path stuns the sharp thorns.
Nothing would stop the seeker,
he has to annihilate the rival.

Somebody takes an aim
at the dancing egos
and brings down the marvel.

The bitter feud continues, between
stars and moon.
The molten lava moves like a snake.

Submitted: Tuesday, October 14, 2008

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