Shimmering Poem by Satish Verma
Shimmering
The sizzling legs wait for
an infinitesimal pause
to learn on approaching zero.
I am not cultish:
the egg has walked out
on a dwarf mother.
The dead horse was rising
after eating dirt. Naked
flame will decide for –
the rights of a man in a
hot night. Deferred a perfect
landing on cherries. The
colors were fighting
for the supremacy of
twisted necks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/17/2024 9:35:10 PM # 1.0.0.1119
