Scouring Poem by Satish Verma
Scouring
Like a bee,
you wanted to land―
on the snapdragon’s,
curved lip.
Light years away―
a mouth gapes open;
you will not,
walk in.
A wrenching search,
for a home, where
you will not find
the violence.
A wax palace, you
are invited to live in.
The dummies, abound,
without backbones.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/19/2024 8:46:34 PM # 1.0.0.1119
