Satish Verma

Gold Star - 35,878 Points (5-6-1935)

A Clean Murder - Poem by Satish Verma

Standing on a beam,
shrine:
holding a black dawn,

my phoenix roving on dark river.
The bell still clangs;
I hear the footsteps.

A weird thought
spreads out on peripherals,
makes holes,

the undone communiqué
of a war
between knuckles;

the blind eyes
lift the fallen globe
of light.

I move from tree to tree.
Who was left unburned?
The sky was overcast.


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Poem Submitted: Monday, February 8, 2010



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