The Assaulter Poem by Satish Verma

The Assaulter



You were aging by nights.
Days will not seek
to defend you.

Drawing the landscape
of a snowfall,
you will die in a portrait.

The world meets
you again like a jawless
lamprey with sucker mouth.

Beyond the blues
lies a tower, where
you will not find the stairs.

In battlefield, stands
the army of red ants, ready
to pound upon the moonlight.

Monday, October 6, 2014
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